Charles  Josselyn. 


•'W  ""? 


DUKE  OF  ARGYLE. 


THE 


UNITY  OF  NATURE 


BY 


THE  DUKE  OF  ARGYLL. 

ft 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  REIGN  OF  LAW." 


NEW  YORK 

A.  L.  BURT,  PUBLISHER 


Related  to  Cock  of  the 


I 


come  To 


F  the  -I^e  of 

San^  Francisco  next,  year,  .people  who 
'' 


raiipiti  .fj>e  isitv  of  :the  late  Duke 
wi'l'l*  see  *nd  'resemblance  oetween  the 
uncle  and  nephew.  The  Duke  is  a  tall, 
stalwart  and  handsome  unmarried 
man  of  forty-two.  He  looks  ten  years 
younger.  The  Duke  gets  his  stature 
from  his  mother's  family,  the  Cal- 
lenders.  His  uncle,  the  ninth  Duke, 
was  trimHy  built  and  possessed  the 
clean-cut  features  of  the  Campbells, 
but  he  was  not  tall.  His  predecessor, 
the  eighth  Duke,  was  a  small  man, 
whose  bantam-like  pugnacity  and  perk- 
iness  earned  for  him  the  nickname  of 
"Cock  of  the  North." 

The  new  Duke  inherits  a  long  string 
of  titil'es  and  an  income  of  $200,000  a 
year.  He  is  Hereditary  Keeper  of  the 
Great  Seal  of  Scotland,  and  Hereditary 
Master  of  the  King's  Household  in 
Scotland.  He  also  holds  the  office  of 
Admiral  of  the  Western  Coasts,  as  well 
as  that  of  Hereditary  Keeper  of 
Dunoon  Castle,  of  Dunstaffnage  Castle, 
where  in  olden  times  the  Kings  of  Scot- 
land held  court,  and  were  crowned;  and 
of  Carriek  Castle.  He  possesses  two 
Dukedoms  of  Argyll,  one  a  Scotch  one, 
dating  from  1701,  and  the  other  an 
English  one,  bestowed  by  Queen  Vic- 
toria in  1892  on  the  ninth  Duke,  her 
son-in-law,  who  married  the  Princess 
Louise.  The  Princess  visited  this  city 
with  her  husband. 

The  Duke  of  Argyll  also  holds  three 
marquisates,  including  that  of  Lome, 
several  viscounties,  seventeen  Scotch 
baronies  and  two  English  baronies. 
Some  of  the  Scotch  baronies  date  back 
to  the  fourteenth  century. 

The  founder  of  the  family  was  Arch- 
ibald Campbell,  who  acquired  the  Lord- 
ship of  Lochawe  in  1067,  by  marriage. 
Most  highly  prized  of  all  the  titles  of 
the  Duke  of  Argyll  is  that  of  Mae 
Cailean  Mohr,  which  was  bestoweu  ^- 


two  GraniT~CMeftah[s  of  the  CU'an 
Campbell,  the  most  powerful  in  Scot- 
land. 

In  the  estimation  of  every  Highland- 
>er,  the  title  of  Mac  Cailean  Mohr— the 
jlatter  word  being  the  Gaelic  for  -the 
•great"— is  the  sublimity  of  distinction. 
In   1871,  when   the   Marquis    of   Lome, 
Ithe  eldest  son  of  the  living  Mac  Cailean 
'Mohr,  was  married  at  Windsor  Castle, 
''  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony,  to  Prin- 
cess Louise,  the  opinion  wa&  generally 
expressed    in    the    Highlands    that 
bride's    mothe'r,    Queen    Victoria,    had 
every  reason  to  be  proud  of  the  match. 
To    the    regret    of    the    Marquis    of 
Lome  (afterwards  Duke  of  Argyll),  his 
royal    spouse    bore    him    no     children. 
Having  no  heir  of  their  own,  the  Duk. 
and    the    Princess    made    much    of 
Duke's   handsome   young   nephew,    (the 
present  Duke),   and  of  his   sister,   I 
peth  Campbell,  a  very  beautiful  girl. 
The  family  seat  of  the  Argylls  is  I 
verary    Castle,    a    statedy    but    sombre 
pile,    which    made    such    a    gloomy    im- 
pression   on   the   Princess    Louise,    now 
widowed   Duchess    of   Argyll,    that    she 
declined  to  live  there.     The  place,  wit! 
its   35,000   acres   of  meadow   and   moo 
land    and   25,000   acres   of   forests,   has 
been   leased    several   times    to    wealthy 
Americans,   including   Eben   D.   Jordan, 
a  Boston  dry  goods  merchant 

Some  of  the  proud,  old  feudal  chi 
tains   must   have   turned   over   in   the 
graves    when    the    dry    goods    Yank- 
from     Boston     town     went     onto     deei 
stalking  in  the  woods  of  Inverary,  whicl 
he    had    rented    from    a    Mac    Cailean 

Mohr. 

Cattle  stealing  was,  in  their  estima- 
tion,  a  nobler  pursuit   than   measurm 
cloth    and    selling    ribbons. 

The    pride    of    Scotia's    feudal 
Inverary   Castle,  with  its  legends   su*/ 


1 


PREFACE. 


As  explained  in  the  Preface  to  the  first  Edition  of  the  "  Reign 
of  Law,"  published  in  1866,  I  had  intended  to  follow  the  chap- 
ter on  Law  in  Politics  with  a  concluding  chapter  on  Law  in 
Christian  Theology.  It  was  natural  to  reserve  for  that  chapter 
all  direct  reference  to  some  of  the  most  fundamental  facts  of 
Human  Nature.  Yet,  without  such  reference,  the  Reign  of 
Law,  especially  in  the  Realm  of  Mind,  could  not  even  be 
approached  in  some  of  its  very  highest  and  most  important 
aspects.  At  that  time,  however,  I  shrank  from  entering  upon 
questions  so  profound,  of  such  critical  import,  and  so  insepara- 
bly connected  with  religious  controversy. 

Further  reflection  has  convinced  me  that  the  great  subject  of 
Law  in  Christian  Theology  is  not  only  incapable  of  being  treated 
in  a  single  chapter,  but  cannot  even  be  entered  upon  at  all 
without  preparatory  investigations  and  preparatory  arguments 
which  it  would  take  volumes  to  exhaust.  What  has  to  be  done, 
in  the  first  place,  is  to  establish  some  method  of  inquiry,  and 
to  find  some  secure  avenue  of  approach.  Before  dealing  with 
any  part  of  the  Theology  which  is  peculiarly  Christian,  we  must 
trace  the  connection  between  the  Reign  of  Law  and  the  ideas 
which  are  alike  fundamental  to  all  Religions,  and  inseparable 
from  the  facts  of  Nature.  It  is  to  this  preliminary  work  that 
the  following  chapters  have  been  devoted.  Modern  Doubt  has 
called  in  question  not  only  the  whole  subject  of  inquiry,  but  the 
whole  Faculties  by  which  it  can  be  pursued.  Until  these  have 
been  tested  and  examined  by  some  standard  which  is  elementary 
and  acknowledged,  we  cannot  even  begin  the  work. 

It  has  appeared  to  me  that  not  a  few  of  the  problems  which 
lie  deepest  in  this  inquiry,  and  which  perplex  us  most,  are  solu- 
ble in  the  light  of  the  Unity  of  Nature.  Or  if  these  problems 
are  not  entirely  soluble  in  this  light,  at  least  they  are  broken  up 


IV  PREFACE. 

by  it,  and  are  reduced  to  fewer  and  simpler  elements.  The 
following  chapters  are  an  attempt  to  follow  this  conception 
along  a  few  of  the  innumerable  paths  which  it  opens  up,  and 
which  radiate  from  it  through  all  the  phenomena  of  the  Uni- 
verse, as  from  an  exhaustless  centre  of  Energy  and  of  Sugges- 
tion. 

It  is  the  great  advantage  of  these  paths  that  they  are  almost 
infinite  in  number  and  equally  various  in  direction.  To  those 
who  walk  in  them  nothing  can  ever  come  amiss.  Every  subject 
of  interest,  every  object  of  wonder,  every  thought  of  mystery, 
every  obscure  analogy,  every  strange  intimation  of  likeness  in 
the  midst  of  difference — the  whole  external  and  the  whole 
internal  world — is  the  province  and  the  property  of  him  who 
seeks  to  see  and  to  understand  the  Unity  of  Nature.  It  is  a 
thought  which  may  be  pursued  in  every  calling — in  the  busiest 
hours  of  an  active  life,  and  in  the  calmest  moments  of  rest  and  of 
reflection.  But  if,  in  the  wanderings  of  our  own  spirit,  and  in 
the  sins  and  sorrows  of  Human  Life,  there  are  terrible  facts 
which  resist  all  classification  and  all  analysis,  it  will  be  a  good 
result  of  our  endeavors  to  comprehend  the  Unity  of  Nature, 
should  it  lead  us  better  to  see,  and  more  definitely  to  understand, 
those  features  in  the  character  of  Man  which  constitute  The 
Great  Exception. 

I  commend  these  chapters  to  the  consideration  of  those  who 
care  for  such  inquiries.  Like  the  earlier  Work,  of  which  this 
is  a  sequel,  much  of  it  has  appeared  separately  in  other  forms. 
These  portions  have  all  been  reconsidered,  and  to  some  extent 
re-written  ;  whilst  a  new  meaning  has  been  given  to  the  reason- 
ing they  contain  by  the  place  assigned  to  them  in  a  connected 
Treatise.  The  chapters  which  were  published  last  year  as 
articles  in  the  Contemporary  Review  called  forth  some  criti- 
cisms from  writers  both  in  England  and  America  from  which 
I  have  derived  advantage. 

ARGYLL. 

INVERARAY,  Dec.,  1883. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

GENERAL  DEFINITIONS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  THE 
UNITY  OF  NATURE.— WHAT  IT  is  AND  WHAT  IT  is 
NOT 1-27 

The  System  of  Nature — The  Unity  of  God — Theism  and  Mono- 
theism— Distinctions  in  Nature — The  Work  of  Specialists — 
Selection  and  Generalization  in  Science — Unity  in  the  Univer- 
sality of  Gravitation — Mechanism  of  the  Heavens — Light — 
Fact  of  an  Universal  Ether — Nature  of  the  Universal  Ether — 
Laws  and  Constitution  of  Light — Radiant  Heat — The  So- 
called  Transmutation  of  Physical  Forces — Magnetism — Chem- 
ical Affinity — Sound — Solar  Light — The  System  of  Adjust- 
ments— Distinctions  between  Light  and  Heat — Relations  be- 
tween Light  and  Heat — Chemical  effects  of  Light— The  Unity 
of  Mind  and  Sentiment — Protoplasm  and  Life — Characteris- 
tics of  Vitality — "  Molecular  Arrangement  " — The  Processes 
of  Crystallization — The  Formation  of  Bone — The  Work  of 
"  Differentiation  " — The  "  Nucelated  Cell  " — Foundations  of 
Organic  Mechanism. 

CHAPTER  II. 

MAN'S  PLACE  IN  THE  UNITY  OF  NATURE 28-48 

The  Composition  of  Man's  Body — The  Fundamental  Facts  of  Or- 
ganic Life — The  Amreba — The  Primary  Agent  in  Building  the 
House  of  Life — Circulating  Fluids  of  the  Body — the  Language 
of  Sensation — The  Science  of  Comparative  Anatomy — The 
Doctrine  of  Homologies — Relationship  of  Man  with  Lower 
Animals  through  Organic  Structure — Adaptation  and  Adjust- 
ment in  Organic  Life — Subordination  of  the  Physical  Forces 
— Sensation  in  the  Animal  Kingdom — The  Doctrine  of  Ideal- 
ism— The  Exercises  of  Mind — Adjustments  between  Senses 
and  their  Objects — Unity  of  Senses  with  corresponding  Appe- 
tites— Affinities  of  Sense-Impressions — Instinct  of  the  Lower 
Animals — Production  of  the  Gall-fly — Mechanical  Adjustment 
—Automata. 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  III. 

PAGE 

ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF 

MAN  ..............................................  .  ,  49—74 

The  Dipper  or  Water-Ousel  —  The  Red-breasted  Merganser  or 
Dun-Diver  —  The  Common  Wild  Duck  —  Mimicry  by  a  Moth  — 
Instinct  the  Foundation  of  Experience  —  Instinct  Dependent 
on  Organic  Apparatus  —  Instinct  congenital  and  Innate  —  Living 
Automata  Nonsense  —  Animals  regarded  as  Machines  —  The 
Water-Ousel  a  Living  Machine  —  Instinct  an  Inspiration  in- 
volving Faith  —  Counterfeiting  by  Birds  —  Knowledge  and  Rea- 
son implicit  in  Instinct  —  Doctrine  of  Descartes  —  Reflex  Nerve- 
Action  —  Consciousness  and  Sensation  dependent  on  Organic 
Structure  —  Man  a  Reasoning  and  Self-Conscious  Machine  — 
Mind  in  Man  —  Duality  of  Mental  Operations  —  The  "  Two 
Voices  "  in  Man  —  Adjusted  Harmony  between  Instinct  and 
Nature  —  Physical  Structure  and  Freedom  of  the  Will  —  A  Con- 
sciousness of  Freedom  Warranted. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
ON  THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE  ...............  75-98 

The  Doubt  of  the  Agnostic  —  The  Philosophy  of  Nescience  —  Limi- 
tations of  Mind  and  Spirit  —  Intensity  of  the  Desire  for  Knowl- 
edge —  A  Reserve  of  Power  —  The  Conceptions  of  Space  and 
Time  —  Of  Force  and  Matter  —  Conservation  and  Dissipation 
of  Energy  —  The  Concept  of  Causation  —  Antecedence,  Uniform 
and  Necessary  —  Correlation  of  Forces  —  The  Law  of  Continu- 
ity —  The  Infinite  a  Conception  of  Science  —  Experience  the 
Ground  and  Basis  of  Knowledge  —  The  Mind  of  Man  a  Part  of 
the  System  of  the  Universe  —  Intuitive  Indexes  of  Higher 
Truths  —  The  Immortal  Service  of  Kant  —  Laws  of  Thought  v- 
—  Laws  of  Nature  —  Relative  Knowledge  —  Things  in  Themselves 
—  The  Perception  of  Relations  —  The  Knowledge  of  Matter  — 
Knowing  a  Thing  "  in  Itself  "  —  Our  Knowledge  of  Light  and 
Sound  —  Order  of  Precedence  in  Knowledge  —  The  What,  How 
and  Why  of  Human  Inquiry  —  Faculties  of  the  Human  Mind  — 
The  Knowledge  of  the  Related  and  the  Real. 

CHAPTER  V. 

ON   THE  TRUTHFULNESS  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE 


A  Charge  of  Anthropomorphism—  Man-Formism  and  Man-Soulism 
—  Central  Idea  of  the  Charge  —  Reason  and  Knowledge  —  An- 
thropopsychism  —  Distinction  recognized  in  Language  between 


CONTENTS.  vi 

Man  and  Nature — The  Phenomena  of  Mind  not  confined  to 
Man — Physical  Forces  in  Nature — Contrast  of  a  Work  of  Hu- 
man Art  and  a  Work  of  Nature — Arrowheads  and  Fossil 
Teeth— A  Work  of  Bearer  Art— Points  of  Contact  of  Works 
of  Nature  and  Works  of  Art — Animals  commissioned  Servants 
of  Nature — Man  the  Creature  and  Child  of  the  Natural  Sys- 
tem— Unity  between  Structure  and  Function — Outsidedness 
and  Insidedness — Downwardness  and  Upwardness — Aspects 
of  Relationship  of  Mind  to  Matter — The  Seemingly  Automatic 
— Chains  of  Physical  Causation — The  Intelligibility  of  Nature 
— Purpose  and  Intelligence — Deceptions  of  a  Spurious  An- 
thropomorphism— Mind  Pre-supposed  in  Structure  of  the 
Brain — Constructive  Agency  outside  the  Apparatus — Abstract 
Conceptions  in  Interpretations  of  Nature. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

ON   THE  ELEMENTARY  CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER  IN 

RELATION  TO  THE  INORGANIC 123-143 

The  Materialistic  Philosophy  of  the  Ancients — Atomism,  Ancient 
and  Modern — The  Phenomena  of  Weight — The  Force  of 
Gravitation— Crudity  of  Old  Materialism— The  "  Molecular 
Constitution  " — Germ  Development — The  Atom  of  Modern 
Chemical  Science — "  Valency  "of  Atoms — Chemical  Combina- 
tions— Affinity  of  Atoms — The  Automatic  Forces  of  Nature-1— 
Chemistry  an  Instrument  of  Purpose — Mysterious  Forces  and 
Laws  of  Chemical  Affinity — Inorganic  Combinations  seeming- 
ly Accidental  but  Really  Systematic — Affinities  of  Oxygen — 
The  Composition  and  Properties  of  Water — The  Fulness  of 
Life  in  the  Ocean — Marine  Organisms — Relations  between 
the  Organic  and  Inorganic — Chemistry  and  the  Metals — Fun- 
damental Principle  underlying  Chemical  Affinity — Subordina- 
tion of  Physical  Causation. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  ELEMENTARY  CONSTITUTION  OF    MATTER  IN  RE- 
LATION TO  THE  ORGANIC 144-162 

Organic  Chemistry— Structure  of  the  Living  "  Cell  "—The  Chem- 
istry of  the  "  Proteids  "  or  "  Hydro-Carbons  "— "  Building 
up  "  of  Organic  Compounds — Triumphs  of  the  Laboratory — 
Structure  of  Crystals  —  "Molecular  Arrangements" — The 
"  Interlocking  of  Atoms  " — Chemical  Combination  essentially 
Dynamic — Inorganic  Structures  merely  Chemical — Difference 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 


and  Segregation  in  Organic  Chemistry — Vegetable  and  Ani- 
mal Tissues — The  Unit  of  Organic  Structure — The  Corpus- 
cles of  the  Blood — Circulation  of  the  Blood — Mysterious  Proc- 
esses of  Crystallization  and  of  Organic  Structure — The 
Science  of  Biology — The  Foresights  of  Nature — A  Doctrine  of 
Comparative  Anatomy — The  Metamorphoses  of  Insects — The 
Principle  of  Development — Predetermination  of  Lines  of  Va- 
riation— Germinal  Structures — The  Development  of  Germs — 
Creation  and  Evolution — Complementary  Notions. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MAN   AS    THE    REPRESENTATIVE    OF    THE    SUPERNAT- 
URAL   163-1 86 

The  Supernatural — Professor  TyndalPs  Elimination  of  the  Super- 
natural— Propositions  denying  the  Supernatural — Man  a  Pro- 
duct of  Evolution — Fundamental  Inconsistency  in  Agnostic 
Philosophy — The  Phrase,  "  Nature  abhors  a  Vacuum  " — True 
and  Legitimate  Anthropopsychism — Central  Conception  of 
Development  Theory — The  "  Circumnutation  "  of  Plants — 
Turgescence  of  Cell-growth  in  Plants — Versatility  of  Plant-life 
— The  Correlation  of  Natural  Forces — Anthropopsychic  Lan 
guage  of  Mr.  Darwin  and  Professor  Tyndall — Development 
Theory  founded  on  Teleology — Objection  of  Agassiz  to  The- 
ory of  Natural  Selection — The  Wealth  of  Mind  in  Nature — 
The  Use  of  Metaphorical  Language — Nature  essentially  An- 
thropopsychic— Herbert  Spencer's  Definition  of  Life — Life  an 
Adjustment — Matthew  Arnold's  Phrase  for  the  Conception  of 
a  Divine  Being— Tyndall's  Test  of  Physical  Truth— The  Proc- 
esses of  "  Differentiation  " — Misuse  of  the  Terms  "  Reflex 
Action  "  and  "  Potential  Existence  " — Classification  of  Scien- 
tific Phraseology — Matter  and  Mind — Mind  in  Man  the  Type 
of  Mind  in  Nature — The  Universe  a  System  of  Order  and 
Beauty — Mind  and  Heart  combined  alone  Adorable — Rela- 
tions of  Man  to  God — The  Human  Mind  a  Faint  Image  of  the 
Divine — Unworthiness  of  our  Moral  Character. 


CHAPTER   IX. 
ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN 187-220 

The  Consciousness  of  Unworthiness — Impulse  and  Power — Man's 
Sense  of  Ignorance — Significance  of  the  Reserve  of  Power — 
The  Law  of  Man's  Being — The  Sense  of  Moral  Obligation — 


CONTENTS.  IX 

PAGE 

The  Association  of  Ideas — The  Moral  Sense  Elementary  in 
Character — The  Analysis  of  Mind  and  Matter — Conscience — 
The  Faculty  of  Memory— The  Faculties  of  Will  and  of  Re- 
flection— Mental  Faculties  not  Independent — Subject-Matter 
of  Moral  Sense — Freedom  in  Human  Action — The  Supreme 
Authority — The  Moral  Sense  in  Deeds  of  Cruelty — Central 
Question  of  all  Ethical  Inquiry — Place  and  Rank  of  Intuition 
of  Instinct — Mental  Operations  originate  from  Rudimentary 
Truths — The  Moral  Sense  necessary  to  Human  Development 
— The  Acquisition  of  Knowledge — Common  Element  of  all 
Moral  Judgment — The  Antagonistic  Schools  of  Ethical  Philos- 
ophy— The  Golden  Rule  and  Utilitarianism — Elementary  Sig- 
nification of  Utility — Fallacy  in  the  Use  of  the  Word  Utility 
— The  Chief  End  of  Man — Utility  a  Test  of  Fitness — Utilitari- 
anism practically  Useless — Authority,  not  Utility,  our  Guide 
— The  Golden  Rule  not  the  only  Moral  Intuition — Obedience 
Man's  First  Conception  of  Duty — All  Nature  Instinct  with  the 
Spirit  of  Authority — Man  Responsive  to  an  Imperial  Code — 
Place  of  Instinct  in  Unity  of  Nature — Seeming  Anomaly  in 
Human  Development — Mind  in  Creation  and  Mind  in  the 
Creature — The  Absolutely  Singular  in  Man — Tendencies  to 
Progress  and  to  Retrogression — Human  Perversions — Checks 
to  Population — Anomaly  in  the  Conduct  of  Savages — An 
Element  of  Confusion  in  the  Universal  Order — The  Corrup- 
tion of  Human  Nature — Inveterate  Moral  Perversities  in  Man. 

CHAPTER  X. 
ON-  THE  DEGRADATION  OF  MAN 221-263 

The  Sense  of  Obligation  an  Elementary  Conception  of  the  Mind — 
The  Feelings  of  Obligation — Moral  Anomalies  require  Expla- 
nation— The  Theory  of  Primordial  Savagery — The  Work  of 
Evolution — What  is  meant  by  Civilization — The  Idea  of  Civil- 
ization and  that  of  Virtue — Essential  Characteristics  of  Civil- 
ization— The  Terms  "  Barbarian  "  and  "  Savage  " — Barbarism 
and  Savagery  not  Primeval — Marriage  in  Primeval  Times — 
The  Development  of  Good  and  Evil — Natural  Rejection  the 
Correlative  of  Natural  Selection — Savagery  and  Civilization 
both  products  of  Evolution — Deteriorating  Effects  of  External 
Conditions — Origin  and  Distribution  of  the  Human  Race — An 
Ancient  and  Sublime  Cosmogony — Scripture  and  Science 
relative  to  Origin  of  Man — The  Doctrine  of  Chances — The 
Dispersion  of  the  Human  Race — The  Configuration  of  the 
Earth — The  Teaching  of  Geology — Landinasses  older  than 
Man, — The  Natives  of  Tierra  del  Fuego — Man  on  the  Shores 


CONTENTS. 

of  Baffin's  Bay — The  Eskimo  Immigrants  from  the  South — 
Man  on  the  African  Continent — The  Aborigines  of  Australasia 
— The  Fauna  of  Australasia — Man  not  Indigenous  in  Austral- 
asia, but  a  Degenerate  Offshoot  of  the  Race — Incentives  to 
Immigration — Remote  Dispersions  Accounted  for — Degrada- 
tion due  to  External  Circumstances — Man  in  Tropical  Ameri- 
ca— Condition  of  the  Lowest  Races  of  Man — Degradation  by 
Development  in  a  Wrong  Direction — The  Indigenous  Civiliza- 
tion of  America — A  Significant  Red  Indian  Myth — Hochelaga 
— Degradation  a  Result  of  War — Reason  Itself  a  Cause  of 
Degradation — The  Gift  of  Reason — The  Lines  on  which 
Reason  moves — Nature  of  the  Reasoning  Faculty — Downward 
Developments  of  Reason — Self-Rectifying  Power  of  Reason 
in  Physics — Reason  in  Religion — Aberrant  Developments  of 
Reason  in  Morals — The  P'ree-Will  of  Man  in  Virtue  and  in 
Vice — Deviation  in  Man  from  the  Order  of  Nature. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
ON  THE  NATURE  AND  ORIGIN  OF  RELIGION 264-283 

Correlation  of  Appetites  with  certain  Facts  ~nd  Laws — Inquiry 
into  the  Origin  of  Religion — Assumptions  involved  in  Cur- 
rent Theories — Schleiermacher's  Definition  of  Religion — The 
Sense  of  Dependence — Tiele's  Definition  of  Religion — Belief 
in  a  Personal  Deity — Divorce  of  Religion  and  Worship  Anom- 
alous— The  Denial  of  God  by  some  not  a  Complete  Denial — 
Belief  in  Order  and  Law  a  Belief  in  Personality — Knowledge 
identified  with  Religion — Comte's  System  of  Religion — Super- 
natural Belief  a  Personal  Belief — Ambiguity  of  the  Phrase, 
"  The  Infinite  "— "  The  Invisible,"  another  Abstract  Phrase- 
Necessity  for  a  clear  Definition  of  Religion — The  Religion  of 
Primeval  Man — The  Mosaic  Identification  of  Origin  of  Relig- 
ion and  Origin  of  Man — The  Fundamental  Belief  in  all  Re- 
ligions— Personal  Element  of  Will  and  of  Purpose— Personal- 
ity in  the  Agencies  and  Energies  of  Nature — The  Origin  of 
Reason — Of  Imagination — Of  Wonder — The  Desire  of  Knowl- 
edge leads  to  Religious  Faith — The  Origin  of  all  Theologies 
• — The  Self-Consciousness  of  Man  connected  with  Religious 
Emotion  and  Belief — The  Conception  of  Form  and  Locality — 
No  Race  of  Men  without  Conceptions  of  a  Religious  Nature — 
Tendency  to  Deify  Material  Objects — Degenerate  Develop- 
ments of  Forms — Difference  between  the  Theology  of  the 
Church  and  Popular  Superstitions. 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  XII. 

PAGE 

ON  THE  CORRUPTIONS  OF  RELIGION 284-305 

Four  Stages  in  the  History  of  Religion — Fetishism — The  Theology 
often  Superior  to  the  Worship — Superstitious  Worship  of 
African  Tribes — Tyranny  of  Savage  Religious  Customs — Proc- 
esses of  Degradation  in  Religion — The  "  Customs  "  of  Da- 
homey— The  Religion  of  Ancient  Egypt — The  Origin  of  Ani- 
mal Worship — Possible  Explanation  of  the  Worship  of  Ani- 
mals— The  Scarabeus  Beetle — Degradation  of  Animal-Wor- 
ship— Serpent-Worship — Comte's  Worship  of  Humanity — 
Liable  to  Degradation — The  Chosen  Heroes  of  Humanity — 
Religious  Systems  uniformly  subject  to  Degradation — Chris- 
tianity alone  possesses  Power  of  Revival  and  Reform — The 
Corruption  of  Mahometanism — The  Character  of  Mahomet — 
Source  of  Declension  of  Mahometanism — Buddhism  originally 
a  Reform  of  Brahminism — The  Teaching  of  Sakya  Muni  (Bud- 
dha)— The  Doctrine  of  Transmigration  of  Souls — The  Ex- 
travagances of  Buddhism  accounted  for — Buddhistic  Athe- 
ism— The  OJgin  of  Brahminism — The  Heaven-Father — The 
True  Idea  of  the  God-head  in  Christianity — Negative  Defini- 
tion of  the  Godh^d  by  the  Reformers  of  the  English  Church 
— J.  H.  Newman's  Definition — Doubtful  Superiority  of  Mod- 
ern Ideas  of  God — Deifications  of  Nature  in  Vedic  Literature 
— Religious  Conceptions  of  the  Aryan  Race — Personifications 
of  the  Forces  or  Powers  of  Nature — Monotheism  and  Poly- 
theism— The  Central  Idea  of  Brahminism — Evidence  of  Lan- 
guage regarding  Conceptions  of  Personality — Personifications 
of  the  Earliest  Aryans— The  "  Book  of  the  Dead  "—The  An- 
cient Egyptian  Idea  of  God. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
RECAPITULATIONS  AND  CONCLUSIONS 306-325 

Doubtful  Chronology  of  the  Oldest  Vedic  Literature—The  first  In- 
ventions of  Man  the  most  Wonderful — The  Beginnings  of  Hu- 
man Speech — Thought  and  Language — Inconceivability  of  a 
First  Man  as  a  Savage — Power  of  Conception  no  Measure  of 
Possibility — The  Assumption  of  a  Fatherless  Childhood — In- 
conceivability of  a  First  Man  as  a  Beast — Universal  Tendency 
of  the  Human  Mind  to  Belief  in  Divinity — Religion  unac- 
countable on  the  Hypothesis  of  No-God — Highest  type  of  Vir- 
tue founded  on  Religious  Faith — The  Enemies  of  Religion — Re- 
lation between  Religious  Conceptions  and  Highest  Conditions 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

of  Human  Life — Fundamental  Postulates  of  all  Religion — The 
Sense  of  Obedience — Truthfulness  of  the  Senses — Authority  of 
Structural  Adjustment — The  Principle  of  the  Human  Mechan- 
ism— The  Senses  of  the' Mind — The  Spirit  of  Interpretation — 
Pre-established  Harmonies  certain — Difference  between  Moral 
and  Intellectual  Nature  of  Man — Man's  first  Consciousness  of 
God — Happy  Conditions  of  Man's  first  Formation — The  Ele- 
ments born  in  Man  for  Apprehending  God — Idolatry  and 
Fetishism  Corruptions  of  early  Conceptions  of  Spiritual  Relig- 
ion— Dante's  Claim  of  Instinct  in  Man — Human  Corruption 
Scientifically  Defined — Moral  Corruption  and  the  Law  of  Her- 
editary Transmission — Man's  Moral  Character  the  one  great 
Anomaly  in  Nature — Agnosticism  Ignores  everything  Kindred 
to  Moral  and  Intellectual  Structure — The  Pretended  Solvent 
of  all  Knowledge  and  of  all  Belief. 

INDEX 327-341 


THE   UNITY  OF   NATURE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

GENERAL    DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS    OF    THE    UNITY   OF 
NATURE — WHAT    IT   IS   AND   WHAT   IT   IS   NOT. 

THE  System  of  Nature  in  which  we  live  impresses  itself  on 
the  mind  as  one  System.  It  is  under  this  impression  that  we 
speak  of  it  as  the  Universe.  It  was  under  the  same  impres- 
sion, but  with  a  conception  specially  vivid  of  its  order  and  its 
beauty,  that  the  Greeks  called  it  the  Kosmos.  By  such  words 
as  these,  we  mean  that  Nature  is  one  Whole — a  Whole  of  which 
all  the  parts  are  inseparably  united — joined  together  by  the 
most  curious  and  intimate  relations,  which  it  is  the  highest 
work  of  Observation  to  trace,  and  of  Reason  to  understand. 

I  do  not  suppose  that  there  is  any  need  of  proving  this — of 
proving,  I  mean,  that  this  is  the  general  impression  which  Na- 
ture makes  upon  us.  It  may  be  well,  however,  to  trace  this 
impression  to  its  source — to  see  how  far  it  is  founded  on  defi- 
nite facts,  and  how  far  it  is  strengthened  by  such  new  discover- 
ies as  science  has  lately  added  to  the  knowledge  of  Mankind. 

One  thing  is  certain :  that  whatever  science  may  have  done, 
or  may  be  doing,  to  confirm  Man's  idea  of  the  Unity  of  Nature, 
science,  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  term,  did  not  give 
rise  to  it.  The  idea  had  arisen  long  before  science  in  this 
sense  was  born.  That  is  to  say,  the  idea  existed  before  the 
acquisition  of  physical  knowledge  had  been  raised  to  the  dig- 
nity of  a  pursuit,  and  before  the  methods  and  the  results  of 
that  pursuit  had  been  reduced  to  system.  Theology,  no  doubt, 
had  more  to  do  with  it.  The  idea  of  the  Unity  of  Nature  must 
be  at  least  as  old  as  the  idea  of  one  God :  and  even  those  who 
believe  in  the  derivation  of  Man  from  the  Savage  and  the 


2  ;THE  .UNITY  OF  -  NATURE. 

BruCe,  'cannot  tell  us  how  soon  the  Monotheistic  doctrine 
arose.  The  Jewish  literature  and  traditions,  which  are  at  least 
among  the  oldest  in  the  world,  exhibit  this  doctrine  in  the 
purest  form,  and  represent  it  as  the  doctrine  of  primeval  times. 
The  earliest  indications  of  religious  thought  among  the  Aryan 
races  point  in  the  same  direction.  The  records  of  that  myste- 
rious civilization  which  had  been  established  on  the  Nile  at  a 
date  long  anterior  to  the  Call  of  Abraham,  are  more  and  more 
clearly  yielding  results  in  harmony  with  the  tradition  of  the 
Jews.  The  Polytheism  of  Egypt  is  being  traced  and  tracked 
through  the  many  and  the  easy  paths  which  lead  to  the  fashion- 
ing of  many  Gods  out  of  the  attributes  of  One.* 

Probably  those  who  do  not  accept  this  conclusion  as  histor- 
ically proved  may  hold  rather  that  the  idea  of  the  Unity  of  Na- 
ture preceded  the  idea  of  the  Unity  of  God,  and  that  Monothe- 
ism is  but  the  form  in  which  that  earlier  idea  became  embod- 
ied. It  matters  not,  so  far  as  my  present  purpose  is  concerned, 
which  of  these  two  has  been  the  real  order  of  events.  If  the 
law  prevailing  in  the  infancy  of  our  race  has  been  at  all  like  the 
law  prevailing  in  the  infancy  of  the  individual,  then  Man's  first 
Beliefs  were  derived  from  Authority,  and  not  from  either  reason- 
ing or  observation.  I  do  not  myself  believe  that  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  world  Theism  arose  as  the  result  of  philosophical 
speculation,  or  as  the  result  of  Imagination  personifying  some 
abstract  idea  of  the  Unity  of  external  Nature.  But  if  this  were 
possible,  then  it  would  follow  that  while  a  perception  of  the 
Unity  of  Nature  must  be  at  least  as  old  as  the  idea  of  one  Cre- 
ator, it  may  be  a  good  deal  older.  Whether  the  two  ideas  were 
ever  actually  separated  in  history,  it  is  certain  that  they  can  be, 
and  are,  separated  at  the  present  time.  A  sense  and  a  percep- 
tion of  the  Unity  of  Nature — strong,  imaginative,  and  almost 
mystic  in  its  character — is  now  prevalent  among  men  over 
whom  the  idea  of  the  personal  agency  of  a  living  God  has,  to 
say  the  least,  a  much  weaker  hold. 

What,  then,  is  this  Unity  of  Nature  ?  Is  it  a  fact  or  an  im- 
agination ?  Is  it  a  reality  or  a  dream  ?  Is  it  a  mere  poetic 
fancy  incapable  of  definition  ,  or  is  it  a  conception  firmly  and 
legitimately  founded  on  the  phenomena  of  the  world  ? 

*  Renoaf ,  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  1879,  P-  89- 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  3 

But  there  is  another  question  which  comes  before  these. 
What  do  we  mean  by  unity  ?  In  what  sense  can  we  say  that 
an  infinite  number  and  variety  of  things  are  nevertheless  one  ? 
This  is  an  important  question,  because  it  is  very  possible  to 
look  for  the  Unity  of  Nature  in  such  a  manner  that,  instead  of 
extending  our  knowledge,  or  rendering  it  more  clear  and  defi- 
nite, we  may  rather  narrow  it,  and  render  it  more  confused.  It 
has  been  said  that  all  knowledge  consists  in  the  perception  of 
difference.  This  is  not  accurate ;  but  it  is  true  that  the  percep- 
tion of  difference  is  the  necessary  foundation  of  all  knowledge. 
For  if  it  be  possible  to  give  any  short  definition  of  that  in 
which  essentially  all  knowledge  consists,  perhaps  the  nearest 
approach  to  such  a  definition  would  be  this  :  that  knowledge  is 
the  perception  of  relations,  (jo  know  a  thing  and  to  under- 
stand it,  is  to  know  it  in  its  relation  to  other  things)  But  the 
first  step  in  this  knowledge  is  to  know  it  as  distinguished  from 
other  things.  The  perception  of  mere  difference  comes  before 
the  perception  of  all  Other  and  higher  relations. 

It  is  well,  therefore,  to  remember  that  no  increase  of  knowl- 
edge can  be  acquired  by  a  wilful  confounding  or  a  careless 
forgetfulness  of  distinctions.  We  may  choose  to  call  two  things 
one,  because  we  choose  to  look  at  them  in  one  aspect  only, 
and  to  disregard  them  in  other  aspects  quite  as  obvious,  and 
perhaps  much  more  important.  And  thus  we  may  create  a 
unity  which  is  purely  artificial,  or  which  represents  nothing 
but  a  comparatively  insignificant  incident  in  the  System  of 
Nature.  For  as  things  may  be  related  to  each  other  in  an 
infinite  variety  of  ways — in  form,  or  in  size,  or  in  substance, 
or  in  position,  or  in  modes  of  origin,  or  in  laws  of  growth, 
or  in  work  and  function — so  there  are  an  infinite  number 
and  variety  of  aspects  in  which  unity  can  be  traced.  And 
these  aspects  rise  in  an  ascending  series  according  to  the  com- 
pleteness of  our  knowledge  of  things,  and  according  to  the  devel- 
opment of  those  intellectual  faculties  by  which  alone  the  higher 
relations  between  them  can  be  perceived.  For  the  perception 
of  every  relation,  even  that  of  mere  physical  continuity,  is 
purely  the  work  of  Mind,  and  this  work  can  only  be  performed 
in  proportion  to  the  materials  which  are  supplied,  and  to  the 
power  of  interpretation  which  is  enjoyed.  It  is  very  easy  to 


4  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

rest  satisfied  with  the  perception  of  the  commoner  and  more 
obvious  relations  of  things  to  each  other,  and  even  to  be  so 
engrossed  with  these  as  to  be  rendered  altogether  incapable  of 
perceiving  the  finer  and  less  palpable  relations  which  consti- 
tute the  higher  aspects  of  the  Unity  of  Nature.  New  relations, 
too,  which  are  by  no  means  obvious,  but  on  the  contrary  can 
only  be  discovered  by  laborious  analysis,  may  from  the  mere 
effect  of  novelty,  engross  attention  far  beyond  their  real  impor- 
tance. Nay,  more — it  may  be  said,  with  truth,  that  this  is  a 
danger  which,  for  a  time  at  least,  increases  with  the  progress  of 
science,  because  it  must  obviously  beset  special  subjects  of  in- 
quiry and  special  methods  of  research.  The  division  of  la- 
bor necessarily  becomes  more  and  more  minute  with  the 
complication  of  the  work  which  is  to  be  done,  and  branches 
out  into  a  thousand  channels  of  inquiry,  each  of  which  finds 
its  natural  termination  in  the  ascertainment  of  some  one  special 
series  of  relations.  The  Chemist  is  engaged  with  the  elemen- 
tary combinations  of  matter,  and  finds  a  unity  of  composition 
among  things  which  in  all  other  aspects  are  totally  diverse. 
The  Anatomist  is  concerned  with  structure,  and  separates 
widely  between  things  which  may  nevertheless  be  identical  in 
chemical  composition.  The  Physiologist  is  concerned  with 
function  :  and,  finding  the  same  offices  performed  by  a  vast 
variety  of  structures,  ranges  them  across  all  their  differences 
under  a  single  name.  The  Comparative  Anatomist  is  concerned 
with  the  relative  place  or  position  of  the  parts  in  Organic  struct- 
ures ;  and,  although  he  finds  the  same  part  in  different  creat- 
ures performing  widely  different  functions,  he  nevertheless  pro- 
nounces them  to  be  the  same,  and  to  be  one  in  the  homologies  of 
an  ideal  archetype.  But  each  of  these  inquirers  may  be  satisfied 
with  the  particular  unity  which  his  own  investigations  lead  him 
specially  to  observe,  and  may  be  blind  altogether  to  the  unity 
which  is  next  above  it. 

Nor  is  it  specialists  alone  who  are  in  danger  of  forming  nar- 
row and  inadequate  conceptions  of  the  Unity  of  Nature.  Minds 
whose  tendency  it  is  to  generalize  are  even  more  exposed  to 
this  danger  than  minds  whose  passion  it  is  to  investigate  and 
arrange  a  particular  class  of  facts.  The  work  of  generalization 
is  essentially  a  work  of  selection — the  selection  and  separation 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  5 

of  that  which  is  essential  from  that  which  is  comparatively  un- 
important, in  the  great  connecting  lines  of  Nature.  If  in  this 
work  the  principle  of  selection  be  a  wrong  one — if  it  be  founded 
on  a  narrow  conception  and  a  very  partial  understanding  of 
the  facts — if  the  great  lines  are  not  seen  to  be  what  they  really 
are,  and  if  little  divergent  lines  are  followed  in  their  stead — 
then  the  most  ambitious  generalizations  of  science  may  be  far 
more  deceiving  than  the  most  despised  of  vulgar  errors.  For 
indeed  these  errors  are  sometimes  errors  only  in  their  form, 
whilst  in  substance  they  are  often  full  of  spirit  and  of  truth. 
In  them,  not  seldom,  the  popular  eye  has  caught  and  reflected 
the  masses  of  the  forest  which  the  man  of  science  has  been 
prevented  from  seeing  by  the  trees.  And  so  it  may  well  be 
that  the  sense  of  unity  in  Nature,  which  Man  has  had  from 
very  early  times,  reflected  in  such  words  as  the  "  Universe," 
and  in  his  belief  in  one  God,  is  a  higher  and  fuller  percep- 
tion of  the  truth  than  is  commonly  attained  either  by  those  who 
are  engrossed  in  the  laborious  investigation  of  details,  or  by 
those  who  struggle  to  compress  all  the  wealth  of  Nature  within 
some  abstract  formula  of  the  laboratory  or  of  the  workshop. 
This  is  one  of  the  many  cases  in  which  the  Intuitions  of  the 
Mind  have  preceded  inquiry,  and  gone  in  advance  of  science, 
leaving  nothing  for  systematic  investigation  to  do,  except  to 
confirm,  by  formal  proofs,  that  which  has  been  already  long 
felt  and  known. 

I  have  already  indicated  the  sense  in  which  the  Unity  of 
Nature  impresses  itself  on  the  Intelligence  of  Man.  It  is  in 
that  intricate  dependence  of  all  things  upon  each  other  which 
makes  them  appear  to  be  parts  of  one  System.  And  even 
where  the  connection  falls  short  of  dependence,  or  of  any  visi- 
ble relation,  the  same  impression  of  unity  is  conveyed  in  the 
prevalence  of  close  and  curious  analogies  which  are  not  the 
less  striking  when  the  cause  or  the  reason  of  them  is  un- 
known. 

I  propose  in  this  chapter  to  specify  some  of  the  signs  of  unity 
which  the  study  of  Nature  has  more  definitely  revealed,  and 
consider  how  far  they  carry  us. 

There  is  one  sign  of  unity,  which,  of  itself,  carries  us  very 
far  indeed.  It  is  the  sign  given  to  us  in  the  ties  by  which  this 


6  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

world  of  ours  is  bound  to  the  other  worlds  around  it.  There  is 
no  room  foi  fancy  here.  The  truths  which  have  been  reached 
in  this  matter  have  been  reached  by  walking  in  the  paths  of  rig- 
orous demonstration.  This  Earth  is  part  of  the  vast  Mechan- 
ism of  the  Heavens.  The  force,  or  forces,  by  which  that  mech- 
anism is  governed  are  forces  which  prevail  not  only  in  our  own 
Solar  System,  but,  as  there  is  reason  to  believe,  through  all 
Space,  and  are  determining,  as  astronomers  tell  us,  the  move- 
ment of  our  Sun,  with  all  its  Planets,  round  some  distant  cen- 
tre, of  which  we  know  neither  the  nature  nor  the  place.  More- 
over, these  same  forces  are  equally  prevailing  on  the  surface  of 
this  Earth  itself.  The  whole  of  its  physical  phenomena  are 
subject  to  the  conditions  which  they  impose. 

If  there  were  no  other  indications  of  unity  than  this,  it  would 
be  almost  enough.  For  the  unity  which  is  implied  in  the 
Mechanism  of  the  Heavejis  is  indeed  a  unity  which  is  all-em- 
bracing and  complete.  (The  structure  of  our  own  Bodies,  with 
all  that  depends  upon  it,  is  a  structure  governed  by,  and  there- 
fore adapted  to,  the  same  force  of  gravitation  which  has  deter- 
mined the  form  and  the  movements  of  myriads  of  worlds. 
Every  part  of  the  human  Organism  is  fitted  to  conditions  which 
would  all  be  destroyed  in  a  moment  if  the  forces  of  gravitation 
were  to  change  or  fail.  It  is,  indeed,  evident  that  a  force  such 
as  this  must  govern  the  whole  order  of  things  in  which  it  exists 
.at  all.  Every  other  force  must  work,  or  be  worked,  in  subordi- 
nation to  it. 

Nor  is  gravitation  the  only  agency  which  brings  home  to  us 
the  unity  of  the  conditions  which  prevail  among  the  worlds. 
There  is  another  :  Light — that  sweet  and  heavenly  messenger 
which  comes  to  us  from  the  depths  of  Space,  telling  us  all  we 
know  of  other  worlds,  and  giving  us  all  that  we  enjoy  of  life 
and  beauty  on  our  own.  And  there  is  one  condition  of  unity 
revealed  by  Light  which  is  not  revealed  by  gravitation.  For, 
in  respect  to  gravitation,  although  we  have  an  idea  of  the  meas- 
ure, we  have  no  idea  of  the  method,  of  its  operation.  We  know 
with  precision  the  numerical  rules  which  it  obeys,  but  we  know 
nothing  whatever  of  the  way  in  which  its  work  is  done.  But  in 
respect  to  Light  we  have  an  idea  not  only  of  the  measure,  but 
of  the  mode  of  its  operation.  In  one  sense,  of  course,  Light  is 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  7 

a  mere  sensation  in  ourselves.  But  when  we  speak  of  it  as  an 
external  thing,  we  speak  of  the  cause  of  that  sensation.  In 
this  sense,  Light  is  a  wave,  or  an  undulatory  vibration,  and  such, 
vibrations  can  only  be  propagated  in  a  medium  which,  however 
thin,  must  be  material.  That  this  substance  is  at  all  like  the 
chemical  substance  that  we  call  "  ether,"  is  of  course  a  meta- 
phor. It  is  a  good  metaphor  only  in  so  far  as  the  vapor  of 
ether  represents  to  us  a  form  of  Matter  which  is  very  thin,  in- 
visible, and  impalpable.  But  although  the  application  of  this 
word  to  the  medium  in  which  Light  is  propagated  is  a  meta- 
phor, it  is  wholly  erroneous  to  say,  as  is  often  said,  that  the  ex- 
istence of  the  medium  is  an  hypothesis.  The  existence  of  some 
medium  is  as  certain  as  any  other  fact  in  physics.  A  vibration, 
or  an  undulation,  has  no  meaning  except  that  of  a  movement 
in  the  particles  of  a  material  substance.  Those  who  have  dis- 
puted or  doubted  the  use  of  the  word  "  ether  "  as  involving  an 
hypothesis  have  been  obliged  to  admit  of  a  material  medium  in 
some  form  or  other.  QLight,  therefore,  reveals  to  us  the  fact 
that  we  are  united  with  the  most  distant  worlds,  and  with  all  in- 
tervening space,  by  some  ethereal  atmosphere,  which  embraces 
and  holds  them  alQ 

Moreover,  the  enormous  velocity  with  which  the  vibrations 
of  this  atmosphere  are  propagated  proves  that  it  is  a  substance 
of  the  closest  continuity,  and  of  the  highest  tension.  The  tre- 
mors which  are  imparted  to  it  by  luminous  bodies  rush  from 
particle  to  particle  at  the  rate  of  186,000  miles  in  a  second  of 
time  ;  and  thus,  although  it  is  impalpable,  invisible,  and  im- 
ponderable, we  know  that  it  is  a  medium  infinitely  more  com- 
pact than  the  most  solid  substances  which  can  be  felt  and 
weighed.  It  is  very  difficult  to  conceive  this,  because  the 
waves  or  tremors  which  constitute  Light  are  not  recognizable 
by  any  sense  but  one ;  and  the  impressions  of  that  sense  give 
us  no  direct  information  on  the  nature  of  the  medium  by  which 
those  impressions  are  produced.  We  cannot  see  the  luminifer- 
ous  medium  except  when  it  is  in  motion ;  and  not  even  then, 
unless  that  motion  be  in  a  certain  direction  towards  ourselves. 
When  this  medium  is  at  rest  we  are  in  utter  darkness,  and  so 
are  we  also  when  its  movements  are  rushing  past  us,  but  do  not 
directly  impinge  upon  us.  The  luminiferous  medium  is,  there- 


8  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

fore,  in  itself,  invisible  ;  and  its  nature  can  only  be  arrived  at 
by  pure  reasoning — reasoning,  of  course,  founded  on  observa- 
tion, but  observation  of  rare  phenomena,  or  of  phenomena 
which  can  only  be  seen  under  those  conditions  which  Man  has 
invented  for  analyzing  the  operations  of  his  own  most  glorious 
Sense.  And  never,  perhaps,  has  Man's  inventive  genius  been 
more  signally  displayed  than  in  the  long  series  of  investigations 
which  first  led  up  to  the  conception,  and  have  now  furnished 
the  proof,  that  Light  is  nothing  but  the  undulatory  movement 
of  a  substantial  medium. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  express  in  language  the  ideas  upon  the 
nature  of  that  medium  which  have  been  built  up  from  the  facts 
of  its  behavior.  It  is  difficult  to  do  so,  because  all  the  words 
by  which  we  express  the  properties  of  Matter  refer  to  its  more 
obvious  phenomena — that  is  to  say,  to  the  direct  impressions 
which  Matter  makes  upon  the  senses.  And  so,  when  we  have 
to  deal  with  forms  of  Matter  which  do  not  make  any  impressions 
of  the  same  kind — forms  of  Matter  which  can  neither  be  seen, 
nor  felt,  nor  handled,  which  have  neither  weight,  nor  taste,  nor 
smell,  nor  aspect — we  can  only  describe  them  by  the  help  of 
analogies  as  near  as  we  can  find.  But  as  regards  the  qualities 
of  the  medium  which  causes  the  sensation  of  Light,  the  nearest 
analogies  are  remote,  and  what  is  worse,  they  compel  us  to  as- 
sociate ideas  which  elsewhere  are  so  dissevered  as  to  appear 
almost  exclusive  of  each  other.  It  is  now  more  than  three 
quarters  of  a  century  since  Dr.  Thomas  Young  astonished  and 
amused  the  scientific  world  by  declaring  of  the  luminiferous 
medium  that  he  "  was  disposed  to  believe  that  it  pervades  the 
substance  of  all  material  bodies  with  little  or  no  resistance  as 
freely  as  the  air  moves  through  a  grove  of  trees."  *  This  sug- 
gests the  idea  of  an  element  of  extreme  tenuity.  And  yet  that 
element  cannot  be  said  to  be  thin  in  which  a  wave  is  transmitted 
with  the  enormous  velocity  of  Light.  On  the  contrary,  its 
molecules  must  be  in  closest  contact  with  each  other  when  a 
tremor  is  carried  by  them  through  a  thickness  of  186,000  miles 
in  a  single  second.  Accordingly,  Sir  J.  Herschel  has  declared 
that  the  luminiferous  ether  must  be  conceived  of  not  as  an  air, 
nor  as  a  fluid,  but  rather  as  a  solid — "  in  this  sense  at  least,  that 

*  Works  of  Dr.  Young,  vol.  i.  p.  188.    Bakerian  Lecture,  Nov.  24, 1803. 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  9 

its  particles  cannot  be  supposed  as  capable  of  interchanging 
places,  or  of  bodily  transfer  to  any  measurable  distance  from 
their  own  special  and  assigned  localities  in  the  universe.*" 
Well  may  Sir  J.  Herschel  add  that  "  this  will  go  far  to  realize  (in 
however  unexpected  a  form)  the  ancient  idea  of  a  crystalline 
orb."  And  thus  the  wonderful  result  of  all  investigation  is  that 
this  Earth  is  in  actual  rigid  contact  with  the  most  distant  worlds 
in  space — in  rigid  contact,  that  is  to  say,  through  a  medium 
which  touches  and  envelopes  all,  and  which  is  incessantly  com- 
municating from  one  world  to  another  the  minutest  vibrations 
it  receives. 

The  laws,  therefore,  and  the  constitution  of  Light,  even  more 
than  the  law  of  gravitation,  carry  up  to  the  highest  degree  of 
certainty  our  conception  of  the  Universe  as  one ; — one,  that  is  to 
say,  in  virtue  of  the  closest  mechanical  connection,  and  of  the 
prevalence  of  one  universal  medium. 

Moreover,  it  is  now  known  that  this  medium  is  the  vehicle  not 
only  of  Light,  but  also  of  Radiant  Heat,  whilst  it  has  likewise  a 
special  power  of  setting  up,  or  of  setting  free,  the  mysterious 
action  of  Chemical  Affinity.  The  beautiful  experiments  have 
become  familiar  by  which  these  three  kinds  of  energy  can  be 
separated  from  each  other  in  the  solar  spectrum,  and  each  of 
them  can  be  made  to  exhibit  its  peculiar  effects.  With  these 
again  the  forces  of  Galvanism  and  Electricity  have  some 
very  intimate  connection,  which  goes  far  to  indicate  like  methods 
of  operation  in  some  prevailing  element.  Considering  how  all 
the  forms  of  Matter,  both  in  the  Organic  and  in  the  Inorganic 
worlds,  depend  on  one  or  other,  or  on  all  of  these — consider- 
ing how  Life  itself  depends  upon  them,  and  how  it  flickers  or 
expires  according  as  they  are  present  in  due  proportion — it  is 
impossible  not  to  feel  that  in  this  great  group  of  powers,  so 
closely  bound  up  together,  we  are  standing  very  close  indeed 
to  some  pervading,  if  not  universal,  agency  in  the  mechanism  of 
Nature. 

There  are,  however,  a  great  many  things  in  Nature  to  which 
we  may  stand  very  close  indeed  without  being  able  to  see  them 
clearly,  or  to  understand  them  at  all.  And  this  is  the  case 
with  that  great  Pentarchy  of  Physical  Forces  which  is  consti- 

*  u  Familiar  Lectures  on  Scientific  Subjects,"  p.  285. 


10  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

tuted  by  Heat,  Light,  Magnetism,  Electricity,  and  Chem- 
ical Affinity.  The  relations  between  them  are  as  intimate 
as  they  are  obscure.  But  the  nature  of  those  relations,  in  so 
far  as  they  are  known,  is  pre-eminently  suggestive  of  a  unity 
which  is  founded  on  the  co-ordination  of  agencies  not  in  them- 
selves identical,  but,  on  the  contrary,  separated  from  each 
other  by  distinctions  as  profound  as  any  which  can  prevail  in 
physics.  Writers  and  lecturers  on  Science  are  very  apt  to  speak 
of  these  Forces  as  capable  of  being  "  transmuted  "  or  "  con- 
verted "  into  each  other.  But  this  is  a  loose  and  inaccurate 
representation  of  the  facts.  Carbon  can  be  converted  or  trans- 
muted into  a  diamond  under  certain  conditions  by  a  process 
which,  so  far  as  we  know,  adds  nothing  to  it  and  takes  nothing 
from  it.  Under  both  aspects  it  is  the  same  substance  with  no 
element  subtracted,  and  no  new  element  introduced.  It  has 
simply  had  its  structure  altered  by  a  re-arrangement  of  its  par- 
ticles. But  no  such  identity  can  be  asserted  of  the  five  great 
Physical  Forces  of  which  we  are  speaking  now.  It  is  true,  in- 
deed, that  each  of  them  seems  sometimes  to  pass  into  the  other, 
but  only  as  one  thing  may  be  said  to  pass  into  another  when 
that  other  is  produced  by  its  antecedent.  Mechanical  motion 
in  the  form  of  a  blow  struck  against  living  flesh  will  inflict  upon 
that  flesh  a  wound.  But  it  would  hardly  be  correct  to  say  that 
the  motion  of  the  blow  is  transmuted  into  extravasated  blood. 
In  like  manner  when  a  skilful  Savage  twirls  one  dry  stick 
upon  another  in  a  particular  manner,  he  produces  by  the 
motion  fire.  But  it  would  be  an  erroneous  description  of  the 
fact  to  say  that  the  muscular  strength  of  the  Savage  is  trans- 
muted into  flame. 

Yet  this,  or  something  like  this,  is  the  nature  of  the  sequence 
between  the  Physical  Forces  which  is  commonly  described  as 
transmutation.  In  all  these  cases  there  are  incidents  neces- 
sary to  the  effect  which  are  due  to  other  elements  than  are  to 
be  found  in  the  apparently  producing  cause.  There  is  this 
peculiarity,  however,  in  the  connection  between  the  Phys- 
ical Forces — that  they  may  all  interchangeably  be  either  the 
cause  or  the  consequence  of  each  other.  Mechanical  Motion 
is  the  most  common  antecedent  of  them  all.  It  will  give  rise 
to  Light  and  Heat,  whilst  Heat  and  Light  will  both  give  rise 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  II 

to  mechanical  Motion.  In  like  manner  Heat  and  Light  will 
give  rise  to  Electricity,  whilst,  conversely,  Electricity  will  give 
rise  to  Heat  and  Light.  Again,  Electricity  will  give  rise  to 
Magnetism,  and  Magnetism,  when  accompanied — but  only 
when  accompanied — by  mechanical  movement,  will  generate 
powerful  currents  of  Electricity.  These  currents,  again,  are 
so  closely  connected  with  Chemical  Force  that  they  are  the 
most  powerful  of  all  agents  in  setting  that  Force  free  to  exert 
its  selective  energy.  So  intimate  is  this  connection  that  Elec- 
tricity has  been  described  as  Chemical  Force  in  motion — pass- 
ing from  one  point  of  action  to  another  through  a  chain  of  in- 
tervening substances.  And  yet  the  identification  of  Voltaic 
Electricity  with  Chemical  Force  eludes  us  again  when  it  is 
considered  that  in  itself  it  has  no  chemical  effect  (so  far  as  is 
known)  on  the  matter  through  which  it  passes  by  conduction. 
The  wires  which  complete  the  circuit  in  a  Voltaic  battery  suffer 
no  decomposition  or  chemical  change,  although  such  a  change 
is  the  origin  of  the  current  at  one  end,  and  is  again  the  result 
of  it  at  the  other  end.  Chemical  action  will  not  arise  except 
under  special  conditions.  But  when  these  conditions  are  present 
it  will  produce  all  the  "  correlated  "  forces,  Heat,  Light,  Mag- 
netism, and  Electricity,  whilst,  conversely,  all  these  forces  either 
produce  or  stimulate  or  intensify  Chemical  Action. 

This  great  cycle  of  Forces,  therefore,  constitutes,  as  it  were, 
an  endless  chain,  every  link  of  which  is  in  one  sense  separate 
from,  and  in  another  sense  is  united  to,  the  rest.  Each,  re- 
garded by  itself,  is  distinguished  by  important  differences  from 
the  others.  The  mechanical  motion  of  a  cannon-ball  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  the  molecular  vibration  which  it  produces 
when  that  motion  is  stopped  by  a  resisting  body.  Magnetism 
is  very  different  from  Electricity,  inasmuch  as  in  itself  Magnet- 
ism is  statical,  whereas  Electricity  is  active.  Magnetism,  too, 
differs  from  other  forms  of  Force  in  the  great  distinguishing 
feature  of  polarity, — so  that  every  body  which  is  magnetic 
is  the  seat  of  a  dual  force  acting  in  opposite  directions  with 
equal  energy.  Moreover,  this  duality  of  direction  in  the  action 
of  Magnetic  Force  is  inherent  in  every  particle  of  the  body, 
so  that  the  minutest  fragment  of  it  manifests  the  same  opposite- 
ness  as  the  whole  mass.  Chemical  Affinity  is  the  most  mys- 


12  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

terious  of  all  the  Physical  Forces, — that  of  which  it  is  most 
difficult  to  form  any  clear  conception.  But  one  characteristic 
of  this  Force  is  that  it  depends  on  difference  or  heterogeneous- 
ness  in  the  composition  of  the  matter  which  it  affects.  What 
the  ultimate  connection  really  is  which  exists  between  Forces 
in  other  respects  so  separate  or  distinct,  is  as  yet  one  of  the 
mysteries  of  science.  Suspicion,  if  it  be  nothing  more — that 
kind  of  surmise  which  in  physical  investigations  has  so  often 
preceded  discovery — points  to  that  mysterious  medium  which 
from  its  most  obvious  function  has  been  called  the  luminiferous 
ether.  If  movements  in  that  medium  constitute  all  that  we 
know  of  one  or  two  of  the  correlated  Forces,  it  seems  more 
than  probable  that  it  is  at  least  an  essential  element  in  them 
all. 

This  close  connection  of  so  many  various  phenomena  with 
different  kinds  of  movement  in  a  single  medium  is  by  far  the 
most  striking  and  instructive  speculation  of  modern  science. 
It  supplies  to  some  extent  a  solid  physical  basis,  and  one  veri- 
table cause  for  part,  at  least,  of  the  general  impression  of  unity 
which  the  aspects  of  Nature  leave  upon  the  mind.  For  all 
work  done  by  the  same  implement  generally  carries  the  mark 
of  that  implement,  as  it  were  of  a  tool,  upon  it.  Things  made 
of  the  same  material,  whatever  they  may  be,  are  sure  to  be  like 
in  those  characteristics  which  result  from  identical  or  from  sim- 
ilar properties  and  modes  of  action.  And  so  far,  therefore,  it 
is  easy  to  understand  the  constant  and  close  analogies  which 
prevail  in  that  vast  circle  of  phenomena  which  are  connected 
with  Heat,  Light,  Electricity,  Magnetism,  and  Chemical  Af- 
finity. 

But  although  the  employment  of  one  and  the  same  agency 
in  the  production  of  a  variety  of  effects  is,  no  doubt,  one  cause 
of  the  visible  unity  which  prevails  in  Nature,  it  is  not  the  only 
cause.  The  same  close  analogies  exist  where  no  such  identity 
of  agency  can  be  traced.  Thus  the  mode  in  which  the  atmos- 
phere carries  Sound  is  closely  analogous  to  the  mode  in  which 
the  luminiferous  medium  carries  Light.  But  this  medium  and 
the  atmosphere  are  two  very  different  agents,  and  the  similar- 
ity of  the  laws  which  the  undulations  of  both  obey  is  due  to 
some  other  and  some  more  general  cause  of  unity  than  identity 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  13 

of  material.  This  more  general  cause  is  to  be  found,  no  doubt, 
in  one  common  law  which  determines  the  forms  of  motion  in 
all  Matter,  and  especially  in  highly  elastic  media. 

But,  indeed,  the  mere  physical  or  mechanical  unity  which 
consists  in  the  action  of  one  great  vehicle  of  power,  even  if 
this  were  more  universally  prevalent  than  it  is  known  to  be,  is 
but  the  lowest  step  in  the  long  ascent  which  carries  us  up  to  a 
unity  of  a  more  perfect  kind.  The  means  by  which  some  one 
single  implement  can  be  made  t&  work  a  thousand  different  ef- 
fects, not  only  without  interference,  and  without  confusion,  but 
with  such  relations  between  it  and  other  agents  as  to  lead  to 
complete  harmonies  of  result,  are  means  which  point  to  some 
unity  behind  and  above  the  implement  itself — that  is  to  say, 
they  point  to  some  unity  in  the  method  of  its  handling,  in  the 
management  of  the  impulses  which,  receiving,  it  conveys,  and 
in  the  arrangement  of  the  materials  on  which  it  operates. 

No  illustration  can  be  given  of  this  higher  kind  of  unity 
which  is  half  so  striking  as  the  illustration  which  is  afforded  by 
the  astonishing  facts  now  familiar  as  to  the  composition  of 
Solar  Light.  When  we  consider  that  every  color  in  the  Spec- 
trum represents  the  motion  of  a  separate  wave  or  ripple,  and 
that  in  addition  to  the  visible  series  there  are  other  series,  one 
at  each  end  of  the  luminous  rays,  which  are  non-luminous,  and 
therefore  invisible — all  of  which  consist  of  waves  equally  dis- 
tinct ;  when  we  consider  farther  that  all  these  are  carried  sim- 
ultaneously with  the  same  speed  across  millions  of  miles ;  that 
they  are  separable,  and  yet  are  never  separated  ;  that  they  move 
accurately  together,  without  jostling  or  confusion,  in  perfect 
combination,  yet  so  that  each  shall  be  capable  of  producing  its 
own  separate  effect — it  altogether  transcends  our  faculties  of 
imagination  to  conceive  how  movements  of  such  infinite  com- 
plication can  be  united  in  one  such  perfect  order. 

And  be  it  observed  that  the  difficulty  of  conceiving  this  is 
not  diminished,  but  increased,  by  the  fact  that  these  movements 
are  propagated  in  a  single  medium ;  because  it  is  most  difficult 
to  conceive  how  the  particles  of  the  medium  can  be  so  arranged 
as  to  be  capable  of  conveying  so  many  different  kinds  of  mo- 
tion with  equal  velocities  and  at  the  same  instant  of  time.  It 
is  clear  that  the  unity  of  effect  which  is  achieved  out  of  this 


14  THE   UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

immense  variety  of  movements  is  a  unity  which  lies  altogether 
behind  the  mere  unity  of  material,  and  is  traceable  to  some  one 
order  of  arrangement  under  which  the  original  impulses  are 
conveyed.  We  know  that  in  respect  to  the  waves  of  Sound,  the 
production  of  perfect  harmonies  among  them  can  only  be  at- 
tained by  a  skilful  adjustment  of  the  instruments,  whose  vibra- 
tions are  the  cause  and  the  measure  of  the  aerial  waves  which, 
in  their  combination,  constitute  perfect  music.  And  so,  in  like, 
manner,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  harmonies  of  the  Spectrum, 
effected  as  they  are  amongst  an  infinite  number  and  variety  of 
motions  very  easily  capable  of  separation  and  disturbance, 
must  be  the  result  of  some  close  adjustment  between  the  con- 
stituent element  of  the  conveying  medium  and  the  constituent 
elements  of  the  luminous  bodies  whose  complex,  but  joint, 
vibrations  constitute  that  embodied  Harmony  which  we  know 
as  Light.  Moreover,  as  this  adjustment  must  be  close  and  in- 
timate between  the  properties  of  the  ether  and  the  nature  of 
the  radiating  bodies  whose  vibrations  it  repeats,  so  also  must 
the  same  adjustment  be  equally  close  between  these  vibrations 
and  the  properties  of  Matter — both  the  living  and  the  not-living 
— on  which  they  exert  such  a  powerful  influence.  And  when 
we  consider  the  number  and  the  nature  of  the  things  which  this 
adjustment  must  include — how  it  embraces  the  whole  Organic 
and  the  whole  Inorganic  world,  and  every  combination  of  the 
two — we  can,  perhaps,  form  some  idea  of  what  a  bond  and 
bridge  it  is  between  the  most  stupendous  phenomena  of  the 
Heavens  and  the  minutest  phenomena  of  Earth.  For  this  ad- 
justment must  be  perfect  between  these  several  things — first, 
the  flaming  elements  in  the  Sun  which  communicate  the  differ- 
ent vibrations  in  definite  proportion ;  next,  the  constitution  of 
the  medium,  which  is  capable  of  conveying  them  without  divi- 
sion, confusion,  or  obstruction ;  next,  the  constitution  of  our 
own  atmosphere,  so  that  neither  shall  it  distort,  nor  confuse, 
nor  quench  the  waves;  and  lastly,  the  constitution  of  those 
forms  of  Matter  upon  Earth  which  respond,  each  after  its  own 
laws,  to  the  stimulus  it  is  so  made  as  to  receive  from  the  heat- 
ing, lighting,  and  chemical  undulations. 

In  contemplating  this  vast  System  of  Adjustment,  it  is  im- 
portant to  analyze  and  define,  so  far  as  we  can,  the  impression 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  15 

of  unity  which  it  makes  upon  us ;  because  the  real  scope  and 
source  of  this  impression  may  very  easily  be  mistaken.  It  has 
been  already  pointed  out  that  we  can  only  see  likeness  by  first 
seeing  difference,  and  that  the  full  perception  of  that  in  which 
things  are  unlike  is  essential  to  an  accurate  appreciation  of  that 
in  which  they  are  the  same.  The  classifying  instinct  must  be 
strong  in  the  human  mind,  from  the  delight  it  finds  in  reducing 
diverse  things  to  some  one  common  definition.  And  this  in- 
stinct is  founded  on  the  power  of  setting  differences  aside,  and 
of  fixing  our  attention  on  some  selected  conditions  of  resem- 
blance. But  we  must  remember  that  it  depends  on  our  width 
and  depth  of  vision  whether  the  unities  which  we  thus  select  in 
Nature  are  the  smallest  and  the  most  incidental,  or  whether 
they  are  the  largest  and  the  most  significant.  And,  indeed, 
for  some  temporary  purposes — as,  for  example,  to  make  clear 
to  our  minds  the  exact  nature  of  the  facts  which  science  may 
have  ascertained — it  may  be  necessary  to  classify  together  as 
coming  under  one  and  the  same  category,  things  as  different 
from  each  other  as  light  from  darkness.  Nor  is  this  any  ex- 
treme or  imaginary  case.  It  is  a  case  actually  exemplified  in 
a  lecture  by  Professor  Tyndall,  which  is  entitled  "The  Identity 
of  Light  and  Heat."  Yet  those  who  have  attended  the  exposi- 
tions of  that  eminent  physical  philosopher  must  be  familiar 
with  the  beautiful  experiments  which  show  how  distinct  in  an- 
other aspect  are  Light  and  Heat ;  how  easily  and  how  perfectly 
they  can  be  separated  from  each  other  ;  how  certain  substances 
obstruct  the  one  and  let  through  the  other ;  and  how  the  fiercest 
heat  can  be  raging  in  the  profoundest  darkness.  Nevertheless, 
there  is  more  than  one  mental  aspect, — there  is  more  than  one 
method  of  conception, — in  terms  of  which  these  two  separable 
powers  can  be  brought  under  one  description.  Light  and  Heat, 
however  different  in  their  effects — however  distinct  and  separa- 
ble from  each  other — can  both  be  regarded  as  "  Forms  of  Mo- 
tion "  among  the  particles  of  Matter.  Moreover,  it  can  be 
shown  that  both  are  conveyed  or  caused  by  waves,  or  undula- 
tory  vibrations  in  one  and  the  same  ethereal  medium.  And 
the  same  definition  applies  to  the  most  active  chemical  rays, 
which  again  are  separable  and  distinct  from  the  rays  both  of 
Light  and  Hear. 


1 6  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

But  although  this  definition  may  be  correct  as  far  as  it  goes, 
it  is  a  definition  nevertheless  which  slurs  over  and  keeps  out  of 
sight  distinctions  of  a  fundamental  character.  In  the  first 
place,  it  takes  no  notice  of  the  absolute  distinction  between 
Light  or  Heat  considered  as  sensations  of  our  Organism  or  as 
states  of  consciousness,  and  Light  or  Heat  considered  as  the 
external  agencies  \vhich  produce  these  sensations  in  us.  Sir 
W.  Grove  has  expressed  a  doubt  whether  it  is  legitimate  to  ap- 
ply the  word  "  Light  "  at  all  to  any  rays  which  do  not  excite 
the  sense  of  vision.  This,  however,  is  not  the  distinction  to 
which  I  now  refer  as  confounded  when  Light  is  identified  with 
Heat.  The  confusion  to  which  Sir  W.  Grove  objects  between 
visible  and  invisible  rays  is  a  confusion  of  language  only.  He 
puts  that  confusion  clearly  when  he  says,  "  Invisible  light  is 
darkness,  and  if  it  exist  then  is  darkness  light."  *  If  it  be  an  as- 
certained fact,  or  if  it  be  the  only  view  consistent  with  our 
present  knowledge,  that  the  ethereal  pulsations  which  do,  and 
those  which  do  not,  excite  in  us  the  sense  of  vision,  are  pulsa- 
tions exactly  of  the  same  kind  and  in  exactly  the  same  medium, 
and  that  they  differ  in  nothing  but  in  periods  of  time  or  length 
of  wave,  so  that  our  seeing  of  them  or  our  not  seeing  of  them 
depends  on  nothing  but  the  focussing,  as  it  were,  of  our  eyes, 
then  the  inclusion  of  them  under  the  same  word  Light  involves 
no  confusion  of  thought.  We  should  confound  no  distinction 
of  importance,  for  example,  by  applying  the  same  name  to 
grains  of  sand  which  are  large  enough  to  be  visible,  and  to  those 
which  are  so  minute  as  to  be  wholly  invisible  even  to  the  mi- 
croscope. And  if  a  distinction  of  this  nature — a  mere  distinction 
of  size,  or  of  velocity,  or  of  form  of  motion,  were  the  only  distinc- 
tion between  Light  and  Heat — it  might  be  legitimate  to  consider 
them  as  identical,  and  to  call  them  by  the  same  name.  But  the 
truth  is  that  there  are  distinctions  between  them  of  quite  another 
kind.  Light,  in  the  abstract  conception  of  it,  consists  in  undula- 
tory  vibrations  in  the  pure  ether,  and  in  these  alone.  They  may 
or  may  not  be  visible— that  is  to  say,  they  may  or  may  not  be  with- 
in the  range  of  our  Organs  of  vision,  just  as  a  sound  may  or  may 
not  be  too  faint  and  low,  or  too  fine  and  high,  to  be  audible  to  our 
ears.  But  the  word  "  Heat  "  carries  quite  a  different  meaning, 

*  "Correlation  and  Continuity  of  the  Physical  Forces,"  p.  30,  ed.  1874. 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  17 

and  the  conception  it  conveys  could  not  be  covered  under  the 
same  definition  as  that  which  covers  Light.  Heat  is  inseparably 
associated  in  our  minds  with,  and  does  essentially  consist  in 
certain  motions,  not  of  pure  ether,  but  of  the  molecules  of  solid 
or  ponderable  matter.  These  motions  in  solid  or  ponderable 
matter  are  not  in  any  sense  identical  with  the  undulatory  mo- 
tions of  pure  ether  which  constitute  Light.  Consequently, 
when  physicists  find  themselves  under  the  necessity  of  defining 
more  closely  what  they  mean  by  the  identity  of  Heat  and  Light, 
they  are  obliged  to  separate  between  two  different  kinds  of 
Heat — that  is  to  say,  between  two  wholly  different  things,  both 
covered  under  the  common  name  of  Heat — one  of  which  is 
really  identical  in  kind  with  Light,  and  the  other  of  which  is 
not.  "  Radiant  "  Heat  is  the  kind,  and  the  only  kind  of  Heat 
which  comes  under  the  common  definition.  "  Radiant "  Heat 
consists  in  the  undulatory  vibrations  of  pure  ether  which  are 
set  up  or  caused  by  those  other  vibrations  in  solid  substances 
or  ponderable  matter,  which  are  Heat  more  properly  so  called. 
Hot  bodies  communicate  to  the  surrounding  ethereal  medium 
vibrations  of  the  same  kind  with  Light,  some  of  these  being, 
and  others  not  being,  luminous  to  our  eyes.  Thus  we  see  that 
the  unity  or  close  relationship  which  exists  between  Heat  and 
Light  is  not  a  unity  of  sameness  or  identity,  but  a  unity  which 
depends  upon  and  consists  in  correspondences  between  things 
in  themselves  different.  It  has  been  suggested  *  that  the  facts 
of  Nature  would  be  much  more  clearly  represented  in  language 
if  the  old  word  "  Caloric  "  were  revived,  in  order  to  distinguish 
one  of  the  two  very  different  things  which  are  now  confounded 
under  the  common  term  "  Heat " — that  is  to  say,  Heat  consid- 
ered as  molecular  vibration  in  solid  or  ponderable  matter,  and 
Heat  considered  as  the  undulatory  vibrations  of  pure  ether 
which  constitute  the  "  Heat  "  called  "  radiant."  Adopting  this 
suggestion,  the  relation  between  Light  and  Heat  as  these  rela- 
tions are  now  known  to  science,  may  be  thrown  into  the  follow- 
ing propositions,  which  are  framed  for  the  purpose  of  exhibiting 
distinctions  not  commonly  kept  in  view  : 

*  By  Sir  W.  Thomson.    Professor  Balfour  Stewart  calls  it  "  absorbed  heat"— "to 
distinguish  it  from  radiant  heat,  which  is  a  very  different  thing  "  ("  Conservation  of 
Enegy,"  p.  80). 
3 


1 8  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

I.  Certain   undulatory  vibrations   in  pure  ether   alone  are 
Light,  either  (i)  visible,  or  (2)  invisible. 

II.  These  undulatory  vibrations  in  pure  ether  alone  are  not 
Caloric. 

III.  No  motions  of  any  kind  in  pure  ether  alone  are  Caloric. 

IV.  Caloric  consists  in  certain  vibratory  motions  in  the  mo- 
lecules of  ponderable  matter  or  substances  grosser  than  the 
ether,  and  these  motions  are  not  undulatory. 

V.  The  motions  in  ponderable  matter  which  constitute  Ca- 
loric set  up  or  propagate  in  pure  ether  the  undulatory  vibra- 
tions which  constitute  Light. 

VI.  Conversely,    the   undulatory  vibrations   in    pure   ether 
which  constitute   Light  set  up  or  propagate  in  grosser  matter 
the  motions  which  are  Caloric. 

VII.  But  the  motions  in  pure  ether  which  are  Light  cannot 
set  up  or  propagate  in  all  ponderable  matter  equally  the  mo- 
tions which  are  Caloric.     Transparent    substances  allow  the 
ethereal  undulations    to  pass   through   them  with   very    little 
Caloric  motion  being  set  up  thereby  ;  and  if  there  were  any 
substance  perfectly  transparent,  no  Caloric  motion  would  be 
produced  at  all. 

VIII.  Caloric  motions  in  ponderable  matter  can  be  and  are 
set  up  or  propagated  by  other  agencies  than  the  undulations  of 
ether,  as  by  friction,  percussion,  etc. 

IX.  Caloric,  therefore,  differs  from  Light  in  being  (i)  motion 
in  a  different  medium  or  in  a  different  kind  of  matter ;  (2)  in 
being  a  different  kind  of  motion ;  (3)  in  being  producible  with- 
out, so  far  as  known,  the  agency  of  Light  at  all.     I  say  "  so  far 
as  known,"  because  as  the  luminiferous  ether  is  ubiquitous,  or 
as,  at  least,  its  absence  cannot  anywhere  be  assumed,  it  is  pos- 
sible that  in  the  calorific  effects  of  percussion,  friction,  etc.,  un- 
dulations of  the  ether  may  be  always  an  essential -condition  of 
the  production  of  Caloric. 

It  follows  from  these  propositions  that  there  are  essential 
distinctions  between  Light  and  Heat,  and  that  the  effect  of  lu- 
miniferous undulations  or  "  Radiant "  Heat  in  producing  Ca- 
loric in  ponderable  matter  depends  entirely  upon,  and  varies 
greatly  in  accordance  with,  the  constitution  or  structure  of 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  19 

the  substances  through  which  it  passes,  or  upon  which  it 
plays. 

The  same  fundamental  distinction  applies  to  those  ethereal 
undulations  which  produce  the  effects  called  Chemical.  No 
such  effects  can  be  produced  upon  substances  except  according 
to  their  special  structure  and  properties.  Their  effect,  for  ex- 
ample, upon  living  matter  is  absolutely  different  from  the  effect 
they  produce  upon  matter  which  does  not  possess  Vitality.  The 
forces  which  give  rise  to  Chemical  Affinity  are  wholly  unknown. 
And  so  are  those  which  give  rise  to  the  peculiar  phenomena  of 
living  matter.  The  rays  which  are  called  Chemical  may  have 
no  other  part  in  the  result  than  that  of  setting  free  the  mole- 
cules to  be  acted  upon  by  the  distinct  and  separate  forces  which 
are  the  real  sources  of  Chemical  Affinity. 

What,  then,  have  we  gained  when  we  have  grouped  together, 
under  one  common  definition,  such  a  variety  of  movements  and 
such  a  variety  of  corresponding  effects  ?  This  is  not  the  kind 
of  unity  which  we  see  and  feel  in  the  vast  system  of  adjustments 
between  the  Sun,  the  medium  conveying  its  vibrations  and  the 
effect  of  these  on  all  the  phenomena  of  Earth.  The  kind  of 
unity  which  is  impressed  upon  us  is  neither  that  of  a  mere  unity 
of  material  nor  of  identity  in  the  forms  of  motion.  On  the  con- 
trary, this  kind  of  unity  among  things  so  diverse  in  all  other  as- 
pects is  a  bare  intellectual  apprehension,  only  reached  as  the 
result  of  difficult  research,  and  standing  in  no  natural  connec- 
tion with  our  ordinary  apprehension  of  physical  truth.  For  our 
conception  of  the  Energies  with  which  we  have  to  deal  in  Na- 
ture must  be  moulded  on  our  knowledge  of  what  they  do,  far 
more  than  on  any  abstract  definition  of  what  they  are  ;  or 
rather,  perhaps,  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that  our  con- 
ception of  what  things  are  can  only  be  complete  in  proportion 
as  we  take  into  our  view  the  effects  which  they  produce  upon 
other  things  around  them,  and  especially  upon  ourselves, 
through  the  Organs  by  which  we  are  in  contact  with  the  ex- 
ternal world.  If  in  these  effects  any  two  agencies  are  not 
the  same — if  they  are  not  even  alike — if,  perhaps,  they  are  the 
very  antithesis  of  each  other — then  the  classification  which 
identifies  them,  however  correct  it  may  be,  as  far  as  it  goes, 
must  omit  some  characteristics  which  are  much  more  essen- 


20  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

tial  than  those  which  it  includes.  The  most  hideous  discords 
which  can  assail  the  ear,  and  the  divinest  strains  of  the  most 
heavenly  music,  can  be  regarded  as  identical  in  being  both 
a  series  of  sonorous  waves.  But  the  thought,  the  preparation, 
the  concerted  design — in  short,  the  unity  of  Mind  and  of  Sen- 
timent, on  which  the  production  of  musical  harmony  depends, 
and  which  it  again  conveys  with  matchless  power  of  expres- 
sion to  other  minds — all  this  higher  unity  is  concealed  and  lost 
if  we  do  not  rise  above  the  mere  mechanical  definition  under 
which  discords  and  harmonies  can  nevertheless  be  in  this  way 
correctly  classed  together. 

And  yet  so  pleased  are  we  with  discoveries  of  this  kind, 
which  reduce,  under  a  common  method  of  conception,  things 
which  we  have  been  accustomed  to  regard  as  widely  different, 
that  we  are  apt  to  be  filled  with  conceit  about  such  definitions, 
as  if  we  had  reached  in  them  some  great  ultimate  truth  on  the 
nature  of  things,  and  as  if  the  old  aspects  in  which  we  have 
been  accustomed  to  regard  them  were  by  comparison  almost 
deceptive  ;  whereas,  in  reality,  the  higher  truth  may  well  have 
been  that  which  we  have  always  known,  and  the  lower  truth 
that  which  we  have  recently  discovered.  The  knowledge  that 
Light  and  Heat  are  separable,  that  they  do  not  always  accom- 
pany each  other,  is  a  truer  and  juster  conception  of  the  relation 
in  which  they  stand  to  us,  and  to  all  that  we  see  around  us,  than 
the  knowledge  that  they  are  both  the  same  in  respect  of  their 
being  both  "  modes  of  motion."  To  know  the  work  which  a 
machine  does  is  a  fuller  and  higher  knowledge  than  to  know 
the  nature  of  the  materials  of  which  its  parts  are  composed,  or 
even  to  perceive  and  follow  the  kind  of  movement  by  which  its 
effects  are  produced.  And  if  there  be  two  machines  which,  in 
respect  to  structure  and  movement  and  material,  are  the  same 
or  closely  similar,  but  which,  nevertheless,  produce  totally  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  work,  we  may  be  sure  that  this  difference  is  the 
most  real  and  the  most  important  truth  respecting  them.  The 
new  aspects  in  which  we  see  their  likeness  are  less  full  and  less 
adequate  than  the  old  familiar  aspects  in  which  we  regard  them 
as  dissimilar. 

But  the  Mind  is  apt  to  be  enamored  of  a  new  conception  of 
this  kind,  and  to  mistake  its  place  and  its  relative  importance 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  21 

in  the  sphere  of  knowledge.  It  is  in  this  way,  and  in  this  way 
only,  that  we  can  account  for  the  tendency  among  some  scien- 
tific men  to  exaggerate  beyond  all  bounds  the  significance 
of  the  abstract  and  artificial  definitions  which  they  reach  by 
neglecting  differences  of  work,  of  function,  and  of  result,  and 
by  fixing  their  attention  mainly  on  some  newly  discovered  like- 
ness in  respect  to  form,  or  motion,  or  chemical  composition. 
It  is  thus  that  because  a  particular  substance  called  "  Proto- 
plasm "  is  found  to  be  present  in  all  living  Organisms,  an 
endeavor  follows  to  get  rid  of  Life  as  a  separate  conception, 
and  to  reduce  it  to  the  physical  property  of  this  material.  The 
fallacy  involved  in  this  endeavor  needs  no  other  exposure  than 
the  fact  that,  as  the  appearance  and  the  composition  of  this 
material  is  the  same  whether  it  be  dead  or  living,  the  Protoplasm 
of  which  such  transcendental  properties  are  affirmed  has  always 
to  be  described  as  "  living  "  Protoplasm.  But  no  light  can  be 
thrown  upon  the  facts  by  telling  us  that  Life  is  a  property  of  that 
which  lives.  The  expression  for  this  substance  which  has  been 
invented  by  Professor  Huxley  is  a  better  one — the  "Physical 
Basis  of  Life."  It  is  better  because  it  does  not  suggest  the 
idea  that  Life  is  a  mere  physical  property  of  the  substance. 
But  it  is,  after  all,  a  metaphor  which  does  not  give  an  adequate 
idea  of  the  conceptions  suggested  by  the  facts.  The  word 
"  basis  "  has  a  distinct  reference  to  a  mechanical  support,  or  to 
the  principal  substance  in  a  chemical  combination.  But  at  the 
best  there  is  only  a  distant  and  metaphorical  analogy  between 
these  conceptions  and  the  conceptions  which  are  suggested  by 
the  connection  between  Protoplasm  and  Life.  We  cannot  sup- 
pose Life  to  be  a  substance  supported  by  another.  Neither 
can  we  suppose  it  to  be  like  a  chemical  element  in  combination 
with  another,  (it  seems  rather  like  a  Force  of  Energy  which 
first  works  up  the  inorganic  materials  into  the  form  of  Proto- 
plasm, and  then  continues  to  exert  itself  through  that  combi- 
nation when  achieved) 

We  call  this  kind  of  energy  by  a  special  name,  Life,  for  the 
best  of  all  reasons,  that  it  has  special  effects  different  from  all 
others.  It  often  happens  that  the  philosophy  expressed  in  some 
common  form  of  speech  is  deep  and  true,  whilst  the  objections 
which  are  made  to  it  in  the  name  of  science  are  shallow  and 


22  THE   UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

fallacious.  This  is  the  case  with  all  those  familiar  phrases  and 
expressions  which  imply  that  Life  and  its  phenomena  are  so  dis- 
tinguishable from  other  things  that  they  must  be  spoken  of  by 
themselves.  The  objection  made  by  a  well-known  writer,*  that 
we  might  as  well  speak  of  "  a  watch  force  "  as  of  a  "  vital  force," 
is  an  objection  which  has  no  validity,  and  is  chargeable  with 
the  great  vice  of  confounding  one  of  the  clearest  distinc- 
tions which  exist  in  Nature.  The  rule  which  should  govern 
language  is  very  plain.  Every  phenomenon  or  group  of  phe- 
nomena which  is  clearly  separate  from  all  others,  should  have  a 
name  as  separate  and  distinctive  as  itself.  The  absurdity  of 
speaking  of  a  "  watch  force  "  lies  in  this — that  the  force  by 
which  a  watch  goes  is  not  separable  from  the  force  by  which 
many  other  mechanical  movements  are  effected.  It  is  a  force 
which  is  otherwise  well  known,  and  can  be  fully  expressed  in 
other  and  more  definite  terms.  That  force  is  simply  the  elas- 
ticity of  a  coiled  spring.  But  the  phenomena  of  Life  are  not 
due  to  any  force  which  can  be  fully  and  definitely  expressed  in 
other  terms.  It  is  not  purely  chemical,  nor  purely  mechanical, 
nor  purely  electrical,  nor  reducible  to  any  other  more  simple 
and  elementary  conception.  The  popular  use,  therefore,  which 
keeps  up  separate  words  and  phrases  by  which  to  describe  and 
designate  the  distinctive  phenomena  of  Life,  is  a  use  which  is 
correct  and  thoroughly  expressive  of  the  truth.  There  is 
nothing  more  common  and  nothing  more  fallacious  in  philoso- 
phy than  the  endeavor,  by  mere  tricks  of  language,  to  suppress 
and  keep  out  of  sight  the  distinctions  which  Nature  proclaims 
with  a  loud  voice. 

It  is  thus,  also,  that  because  certain  creatures  which,  when 
adult,  are  widely  separate  in  the  scale  of  Being,  may  be  traced 
back  to  some  -embryonic  stage,  in  which  they  are  undistinguish- 
able,  it  has  become  fashionable  to  sink  the  vast  differences 
which  must  lie  behind  this  uniformity  of  aspect  and  of  material 
composition  under  some  vague  form  of  words  in  which  the  mind 
makes,  as  it  were,  a  covenant  with  itself  not  to  think  of  such 
differences  as  are  latent  and  invisible,  however  important  we 
know  them  to  be  by  the  differences  of  result  to  which  they  lead. 
Thus  it  is  common  now  to  speak  of  things  widely  separated  iy 

*  Mr.  G.  H.  Lewes. 


DEFINITIONS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  23 

rank  and  function  as  being  "  the  same,"  only  "  differentiated," 
or  "  variously  conditioned."  In  these,  and  in  all  similar  cases, 
the  differences  which  are  unseen,  or  which,  if  seen,  are  set  aside, 
are  often  of  infinitely  greater  importance  than  the  similarities 
which  are  selected  as  the  characteristics  chiefly  worthy  of  re- 
gard. If,  for  example,  in  the  albumen  of  an  egg  there  be  no  dis- 
cernible differences  either  of  structure  or  of  chemical  composi- 
tion, but  if,  nevertheless,  by  the  mere  application  of  a  little 
heat,  part  of  it  is  "  differentiated  "  into  blood,  another  part  of  it 
into  flesh,  another  part  of  it  into  bones,  another  part  of  it  into 
feathers,  and  the  whole  into  one  perfect  Organic  Structure,  it  is 
clear  that  any  purely  chemical  definition  of  this  albumen,  or  any 
purely  mechanical  definition  of  it,  would  not  merely  fail  of  being 
complete,  but  would  absolutely  pass  by  and  pass  over  the  one 
essential  characteristic  of  Vitality  which  makes  it  what  it  is, 
and  determines  what  it  is  to  be  in  the  System  of  Nature. 

Let  us  always  remember  that  the  more  perfect  may  be  the  ap- 
parent identity  between  two  things  which  afterwards  become 
widely  different,  the  greater  must  be  the  power  and  value  of 
those  invisible  distinctions — of  those  unseen  factors — which  de- 
termine the  subsequent  divergence.  These  distinctions  are  in- 
visible, not  merely  because  our  methods  of  analysis  are  too 
coarse  to  detect  them,  but  because  apparently  they  are  of  a  na- 
ture which  no  physical  dissection  and  no  chemical  analysis  could 
possibly  reveal.  Some  scientific  men  are  fond  of  speaking 
and  thinking  of  these  invisible  factors  as  distinctions  due  to  dif- 
ferences in  "  molecular  arrangement,"  as  if  the  more  secret 
agencies  of  Nature  gave  us  the  idea  of  depending  on  nothing  else 
than  mechanical  arrangement — on  differences  in  the  shape  or 
in  the  position  of  the  molecules  of  Matter.  But  this  is  by  no 
means  true.  No  doubt  there  are  such  differences — as  far  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  microscope  as  the  differences  which  the 
microscope  does  reveal  are  beyond  the  reach  of  our  unaided 
vision.  But  we  know  enough  of  the  different  agencies  which 
must  lie  hid  in  things  apparently  the  same,  to  be  sure  that  the 
divergences  of  work  which  these  agencies  produce  do  not  de- 
pend upon  or  consist  in  mere  differences  of  mechanical  arrange- 
ment. We  know  enough  of  those  agencies  to  be  sure  that  they 


24  THE   UNITY  OF   NATURE. 

are  agencies  which  do,  indeed,  determine  both  arrangement 
and  composition,  but  do  not  themselves  consist  in  either. 

This  is  the  conclusion  to  which  we  are  brought  by  facts  which 
are  well  known.  There  are  some  simple  structures  in  Nature 
which  can  be  seen  in  the  process  of  construction.  There  are 
conditions  of  matter  in  which  its  particles  can  be  seen  rushing 
under  the  impulse  of  invisible  forces  to  take  their  appointed 
place  in  the  Form  which  to  them  is  a  Law.  Such  are  the  facts 
visible  in  the  processes  of  Crystallization.  In  them  we  can  see 
the  particles  of  matter  passing  from  one  "  molecular  condition  " 
to  another ;  and  it  is  impossible  that  this  passage  can  be  as- 
cribed either  to  the  old  arrangement  which  is  broken  up,  or  to 
the  new  arrangement  which  is  substituted  in  its  stead.  Both 
structures  have  been  built  up  out  of  elementary  materials  by 
some  constructive  agency  which  is  the  master  and  not  the  ser- 
vant— the  cause  and  not  the  consequence  of  the  movements 
which  are  effected,  and  of  the  arrangement  which  is  their  result. 
And  if  this  be  true  of  crystalline  forms  in  the  mineral  kingdom, 
much  more  is  it  true  of  Organic  forms  in  the  animal  kingdom. 
Crystals  are,  as  it  were,  the  beginnings  of  Nature's  architecture, 
her  lowest  and  simplest  forms  of  building.  But  the  most  com- 
plex crystalline  forms  which  exist — and  many  of  them  are  sin- 
gularly complex  and  beautiful — are  simplicity  itself  compared 
with  the  very  lowest  Organism  which  is  endowed  with  Life. 
In  the  wonderful  processes  by  which  bone  is  formed,  the  founda- 
tions or  the  moulds  of  the  structure  are  first  laid  down  in  car- 
riage or  gristle.  This  is  a  compound  substance  purely  Organic, 
whereas  bone  is  a  substance  in  which  the  mineral  element  Cal- 
cium or  lime  is  imported  into  the  structure  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  it  solidity.  The  movements  and  changes  under  which 
this  importation  of  what  may  be  called  comparatively  foreign 
material  is  effected,  have  been  watched  and  described.  They 
are  changes  and  movements  in  the  cartilage, — that  is  to  say,  in 
the  form  and  arrangement  of  the  mould,  which  are  suggestive  of 
almost  conscious  anticipation.  The  mould  can  be  seen  in  the 
process  of  being  moulded.  "  The  cells  of  the  cartilage,  with 
their  cell-spaces,  become  larger— flatten  out— and  usually  show 
a  tendency  to  arrange  themselves  in  parallel  rows;  between 


DEFINITIONS   AND   ILLUSTRATIONS.  25 

which,  if  the  change  has  already  been  in  progress  for  some  time, 
the  lines  of  calcification  may  be  seen  advancing."  * 

This  is  only  one  example  out  of  thousands  in  which  similar 
processes  have  been  observed.  In  all  living  Organisms,  there- 
fore, still  more  than  in  the  formation  of  Crystals,  the  work  of 
"  differentiation  " — that  is  to  say,  the  work  of  forming  out  of 
one  material  different  structures  for  the  discharge  of  different 
functions — is  the  work  of  agencies  which  are  invisible  and  un- 
known ;  and  it  is  in  these  agencies,  not  in  the  molecular  ar- 
rangements which  they  cause,  that  the  essential  character  and 
individuality  of  every  Organism  consists.  Accordingly,  in  the 
development  of  seeds  and  of  eggs,  which  are  the  germs  of 
plants  and  animals  respectively,  the  particles  of  matter  can  be 
traced  moving,  in  obedience  to  forces  which  are  unseen,  from 
"  molecular  conditions "  which  appear  to  be  those  of  almost 
complete  homogeneity  to  other  molecular  conditions  which  are 
of  inconceivable  complexity.  In  that  mystery  of  all  mysteries, 
of  which  Biologists  talk  so  glibly,  the  living  "  nucleated  Cell," 
the  great  work  of  Creation  may  be  seen  in  actual  operation,  not 
caused  by  "  molecular  condition,"  but  determining  it,  and,  from 
elements  which  to  all  our  senses,  and  to  all  our  means  of  in- 
vestigation, appear  absolutely  the  same,  building  up  the  mole- 
cules of  Protoplasm,  now  into  a  seaweed,  now  into  a  cedar  oi 
Lebanon,  now  into  an  insect,  now  into  a  fish,  now  into  a  rep- 
tile, now  into  a  bird,  now  into  a  Man.  And  in  proportion  as 
the  molecules  of  matter  do  not  even  seem  to  be  the  masters 
but  the  servants  here,  so  do  the  forces  which  dispose  of  them 
stand  out  separate  and  supreme.  In  every  germ  this  develop- 
ment can  only  be  "  after  its  kind."  The  molecules  must  obey  ; 
but  no  mere  wayward  or  capricious  order  can  be  given  to  them. 
The  formative  energies  seem  to  be  as  much  under  command  as 
the  materials  upon  which  they  work.  For,  invisible,  intangi- 
ble, and  imponderable  as  these  forces  are — unknown  and  even 
inconceivable  as  they  must  be  in  their  ultimate  nature — 
enough  can  be  traced  of  their  working  to  assure  us  that  they 
are  all  closely  related  to  each  other,  and  belong  to  a  System 
which  is  one.  Out  of  the  chemical  elements  of  Nature,  in  nu- 

*  "  On  the  Ossification  of  the  Terminal  Phalanges  of  the  Digits,"  by  F.  A.  Dixey, 
B.A.,  Oxon.    Proceed.  Ro.  Soc.,  Vol.  XXXI.,  No.  207. 


26  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

merous  but  definite  combinations,  it  is  the  special  function  of 
Vegetable  Life  to  lay  the  foundations  of  Organic  Mechanism  ; 
whilst  it  is  the  special  function  of  Animal  Life  to  take  in  the 
materials  thus  supplied,  and  to  build  them  up  into  the  highest 
and  most  complicated  structures.  This  involves  a  vast  cycle 
of  operations,  as  to  the  unity  of  which  we  cannot  be  mistaken 
— for  it  is  a  cycle  of  operations  obviously  depending  on  adjust- 
ments among  all  the  forces  both  of  solar  and  terrestrial  physics 
— and  every  part  of  this  vast  series  of  adjustments  must  be  in 
continuous  and  unbroken  correlation  with  the  rest. 

Thus  every  step  in  the  progress  of  science  which  tends  to 
reduce  all  Organisms  to  one  and  the  same  set  of  elementary 
substances,  or  to  one  and  the  same  initial  structure,  only  adds 
to  the  certainty  with  which  we  conclude  that  it  is  upon  some- 
thing else  than  composition,  and  upon  something  else  than 
structure,  that  those  vast  differences  ultimately  depend  which 
separate  so  widely  between  living  things  in  rank,  in  function, 
and  in  power.  And  although  we  cannot  tell  what  that  some- 
thing is — although  science  does  not  as  yet  even  tend  to  explain 
what  the  directive  agencies  are  or  how  they  work — one  thing, 
at  least,  is  plain  :  that  if  a  very  few  elementary  substances  can 
enter  into  an  untold  variety  of  combinations,  and  by  virtue  of 
this  variety  can  be  made  to  play  a  vast  variety  of  parts,  this 
result  can  only  be  attained  by  a  system  of  mutual  adjustments 
as  immense  as  the  variety  it  produces,  as  minute  as  the  differ- 
ences on  which  it  depends,  and  as  centralized  in  direction  as 
the  order  and  harmony  of  its  results^  And  so  we  come  to  un- 
derstand that  the  unity  which  we  see  in  Nature  is  that  kind  of 
unity  which  the  Mind  recognizes  as  the  result  of  operations 
similar  to  its  own, — not  a  unity  which  consists  in  mere  same- 
ness of  material,  or  in  mere  identity  of  composition,  or  in  mere 
uniformity  of  structure,  but  a  unity  which  consists  in  the  sub- 
ordination of  all  these  to  similar  aims  and  to  similar  principles 
of  action — that  is  to  say,  in  like  methods  of  yoking  a  few  ele- 
mentary forces  to  the  discharge  of  special  functions,  and  to  the 
production,  by  adjustment,  of  one  harmonious  Whole. 

And  of  this  Unity,  we  who  see  it,  and  think  of  it,  and  speak 
of  it — we  are  part.  In  Body  and  in  Mind  we  belong  to  it,  and 
are  included  in  it.  It  is  more  easy  to  admit  this  as  a  general 


DEFINITIONS    AND    ILLUSTRATIONS.  27 

proposition  than  really  to  see  it  as  a  truth  and  to  accept  all  the 
consequences  it  involves.  The  habitual  attitude  of  our 
thoughts  is  certainly  not  in  accordance  with  it.  We  look  on 
"  Nature  "  as  something  outside  of  us — something  on  which  we 
can  look  down,  or  to  which  we  can  look  up,  according  to  our 
mood ;  but  in  any  case,  something  in  which  we  are  exceptions, 
and  which  we  can  and  ought  to  regard  from  an  external  point 
of  view.  It  may  be  well,  therefore,  to  consider  a  little  more 
carefully  "  Man's  place  in  Nature  " — his  share  and  position  in 
that  unity  which  he  sees  and  feels  around  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MAN'S    PLACE   IN   THE   UNITY    OF   NATURE. 

MAN  is  included  in  the  Unity  of  Nature,  in  the  first  place,  as 
regards  the  composition  of  his  Body.  Out  of  the  ordinary  ele- 
ments of  the  material  world  is  that  Body  made,  and  into  those 
elements  it  is  resolved  again.  With  all  its  beauties  of  form  and 
of  expression,  with  all  its  marvels  of  structure  and  of  function, 
there  is  nothing  whatever  in  it  except  some  few  of  the  elemen- 
tary substances  which  are  common  in  the  atmosphere  and  the 
soil.  The  three  commonest  gases,  oxygen,  hydrogen,  and  ni- 
trogen, with  carbon  and  with  sulphur,  are  the  foundation  stones. 
In  slightly  different  proportions,  these  elements  constitute  the 
primordial  combination  of  matter  which  is  the  abode  of  Life. 
In  the  finished  structure  there  appear,  besides,  lime,  potash, 
and  a  little  iron,  sodium,  and  phosphorus.  These  are  the  con- 
stituents of  the  human  Body — of  these  in  different  combinations 
— and,  so  far  as  we  know,  of  nothing  else.  The  same  general 
composition,  with  here  and  there  an  ingredient  less  or  more, 
prevails  throughout  the  whole  animal  and  vegetable  world,  and 
its  elements  are  the  commonest  in  the  Inorganic  Kingdom 
also. 

This  may  seem  a  rude,  and  it  is  certainly  a  rudimentary  view 
of  the  relation  which  prevails  between  ourselves  and  the  world 
around  us.  And  yet  it  is  the  foundation,  or  at  least  one  of  the 
foundations,  on  which  all  other  relations  depend.  It  is  be- 
cause of  the  composition  of  our  Body,  that  the  animals  and 
plants  around  us  are  capable  of  ministering  to  our  support — 
that  the  common  air  is  to  us  the  very  breath  of  life,  and  that 
herbs  and  minerals  in  abundance  have  either  poisoning  proper- 
ties or  healing  virtue.  For  both  of  these  effects  are  alike  the 
evidence  of  some  relation  to  the  Organism  they  affect ;  and 
both  are  in  different  degrees  so  prevalent  and  pervading,  that 
of  very  few  things  indeed  can  it  be  said  that  they  are  wholly 


MAN'S    PLACE    IN    THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE.  29 

inert  upon  us.  Yet  there  is  no  substance  of  the  thousands 
which  in  one  manner  or  another  affect  the  Body,  which  does 
not  so  affect  it  by  virtue  of  some  relation  which  it  bears  to  the 
elements  of  which  that  Body  is  composed,  or  to  the  combina- 
tions into  which  those  elements  have  been  cast. 

And  here  we  ascend  one  step  higher  among  the  facts  which 
include  Man  within  the  Unity  of  Nature.  For  he  is  united  with 
the  world  in  which  he  moves,  not  only  by  the  elements  of  which 
his  Body  is  composed,  but  also  by  the  methods  in  which  those 
elements  are  combined — the  forces  by  which  they  are  held  to- 
gether, and  the  principles  of  construction  according  to  which 
they  are  built  up  into  separate  Organs  for  the  discharge  of  sep- 
arate functions.  Science  has  cast  no  light  on  the  ultimate  na- 
ture of  Life.  But  whatever  it  be,  it  has  evidently  fundamental 
elements  which  are  the  same  throughout  the  whole  circle  of 
the  Organic  world  ;  the  same  in  their  relations  to  the  Inor 
ganic  ;  the  same  in  the  powers  by  which  are  carried  on  the 
great  functions  of  nutrition,  of  growth,  of  respiration,  and  re- 
production. There  are,  indeed,  infinitely  varied  modifications 
in  the  mechanism  of  the  same  Organs  to  accommodate  them  to 
innumerably  different  modes  by  which  different  animals  obtain 
their  food,  their  oxygen,  and  their  means  of  movement.  Yet 
so  evident  is  the  unity  which  prevails  throughout,  that  Physiol- 
ogists are  compelled  to  recognize  the  fundamental  facts  o': 
Organic  Life  as  "  the  same,  from  the  lowest  animal  inhabiting 
a  stagnant  pool  up  to  the  glorious  mechanism  of  the  human 
form."  * 

This  language  is  not  the  expression  of  mere  poetic  fancy,  nor 
is  it  founded  on  dim  and  vague  analogies.  It  is  founded  on 
the  most  definite  facts  which  can  be  ascertained  of  the  ultimate 
phenomena  of  Organic  Life,  and  it  expresses  the  clearest  con- 
ceptions that  can  be  formed  of  its  essential  properties.  The 
creature  which  naturalists  call  the  Amceba,  one  of  the  lowest 
in  the  animal  series,  consists  of  nothing  but  an  apparently  sim- 
ple and  formless  jelly.  But  simple  and  formless  as  it  appears 
to  be,  this  jelly  exhibits  all  the  wonder  and  mystery  of  that 
power  which  we  know  as  Life.  It  is  in  virtue  of  that  power 

*  On  the  Nervous  System,  by  Alex.  Shaw.     Appendix  to  Sir  Charles  Bell's  "  Anat- 
omy of  Expression." 


30  THE  UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

that  the  dead  or  inorganic  elements  of  which  it  is  composed 
are  held  together  in  a  special  and  delicate  combination,  which 
no  other  power  can  preserve  in  union,  and  which  begins  to  dis- 
solve the  moment  that  power  departs.  And  as  in  virtue  of  this 
power  the  constituent  elements  are  held  in  a  peculiar  relation 
to  each  other,  so  in  virtue  of  the  same  power  does  the  combina- 
tion possess  peculiar  relations  with  external  things.  It  has  the 
faculty  of  appropriating  foreign  substances  into  its  own,  mak- 
ing them  subservient  to  the  renewal  of  its  own  material,  to  the 
maintenance  of  its  own  energy,  and  to  the  preservation  of  its 
own  separate  individuality.  It  has  the  faculty,  moreover,  of 
giving  off  parts  of  itself,  endowed  with  the  same  properties,  to 
lead  a  separate  existence.  This  same  substance,  which  when 
analyzed  has  always  the  same  chemical  composition,  and  when 
alive  has  always  the  same  fundamental  properties,  is  at  the 
root  of  every  Organism,  whether  animal  or  vegetable.  Out  of 
its  material  all  visible  structure  is  built  up,  and  the  power 
which  holds  its  elements  together  is  the  same  power  which  per- 
forms the  further  work  of  moulding  them  into  tissues — first 
forming  them  and  then  feeding  them,  and  then  keeping  them 
in  life.  This  is  as  true  of  the  highest  Organism  of  Man  as  it 
is  of  the  lowest,  in  which  visible  structure  begins  to  be.  The 
phenomena  of  disease  have  convinced  Physiologists  that  all 
the  tissues  of  the  body  are  freely  penetrated  by  the  proto- 
plasmic corpuscles  of  the  blood,  and  that  the  primordial  prop- 
erties displayed  in  the  substance  of  an  Amoeba,  which  has  no 
distinguishable  parts  and  no  separate  organs,  afford  the  only 
key  to  the  fundamental  properties  of  every  animal  body.  One 
eminent  observer  assigns  so  high  a  place  to  this  protoplasmic 
matter  as  the  primary  physical  agent  in  the  building  of  the 
House  of  Life,  and  in  its  renovation  and  repair,  that  he  con- 
siders all  its  other  materials,  and  all  its  completed  structures, 
as  comparatively  "  dead." 

But  the  unity  of  Man's  body  with  the  rest  of  Nature  lies 
deeper  still  than  this.  The  same  elements  and  the  same  pri- 
mary compounds  are  but  the  foundations  from  which  the  higher 
unities  arise.  These  higher  unities  appear  to  depend  upon  and 
to  be  explained  by  this — that  there  are  certain  things  which 
must  be  done  for  the  support  of  Animal  Life,  and  these  things 


MAN'S   PLACE   IN   THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE.  31 

are  fundamentally  the  same  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  crea- 
tures. It  is  for  the  doing  of  these  things  that  "  Organs  "  are 
required,  and  it  is  in  response  to  this  requirement  that  they  are 
provided.  Food — that  is  to  say,  foreign  material — must  be 
taken  in,  and  it  must  be  assimilated.  The  circulating  fluids  of 
the  body  must  have  vessels  in  which  to  circulate,  and  through 
the  walls  of  these  they  must  be  allowed  to  absorb  oxygen ;  and 
when  this  cannot  be  done  more  simply,  a  special  apparatus 
must  be  provided  for  the  separation  of  this  essential  element  of 
life  from  the  air  or  from  the  water.  Sensation  must  be  local- 
ized anfl  adapted  to  the  perception  of  movements  in  surround- 
ing media.  The  tremors  of  the  atmosphere  and  of  the  lumi- 
niferous  medium  must  first  be  caught  upon  responsive — that 
is  to  say,  upon  adapted — surfaces,  and  then  they  must  be  trans- 
lated into  the  language  of  Sensation — that  is  to  say,  into  sight 
and  hearing.  The  heat  evolved  in  the  chemical  processes  of 
digestion  and  of  oxygenation  of  the  blood  must  be  made  con- 
vertible into  other  forms  of  motion.  The  forces  thus  concen- 
trated must  be  stored,  rendered  accessible  to  the  Will,  and  dis- 
tributed to  members  which  are  at  its  command.  These  and 
many  other  uniform  necessities  of  the  animal  frame  constitute 
a  unity  of  function  in  Organs  of  the  widest  dissimilarity  of  form, 
so  that  however  different  they  may  be  in  shape,  or  in  structure, 
or  in  position,  they  are  all  obviously  reducible  to  one  common 
interpretation.  They  do  the  same  things — they  serve  the  same 
purposes — they  secure  the  same  ends — or,  to  use  the  language 
of  physiology,  they  discharge  the  same  functions  in  the  animal 
economy. 

But  more  than  this  :  even  the  differences  of  form  steadily  di- 
minish as  we  ascend  in  the  scale  of  Being.  Not  only  are  the 
same  functions  discharged,  but  they  are  discharged  by  Organs 
of  the  same  general  shape,  formed  on  one  pattern  and  occupy 
ing  an  identical  position  in  one  plan  of  structure.  It  is  on  this 
fact  that  the  science  of  Comparative  Anatomy  is  founded,  and 
the  well-established  doctrine  of  "  homologies."  The  homology 
of  two  Organs  in  two  separate  animals  is  nothing  but  the  unity 
of  place  which  they  occupy  in  a  structure  which  is  recognized 
as  one  and  the  same  in  a  vast  variety  of  creatures — a  structure 
which  is  one  in  its  general  conception,  and  one  in  the  relative 


32  THE   UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

arrangement  of  its  parts.  In  this  clear  and  very  definite  sense, 
the  body  of  Man,  as  a  whole,  is  one  in  structure  with  the  bodies 
of  all  vertebrate  animals  ;  and  as  we  rise  from  the  lowest  of 
these  to  him  who  is  the  highest,  we  see  that  same  structure 
elaborated  into  closer  and  closer  likeness,  until  every  part  cor- 
responds— bone  to  bone,  tissue  to  tissue,  organ  to  organ. 

It  is  round  this  fact  that  so  many  disputants  are  now  fighting. 
But  all  the  controversy  arises  not  as  to  the  existence  of  the  fact, 
but  as  to  its  physical  cause.  The  fact  is  beyond  question.  In 
a  former  work  *  I  have  dwelt  at  some  length  on  the  bearing  of 
this  fact  on  our  conceptions  of  "  Creation  by  Law,"  and  on  the 
various  theories  which  assume  that  such  close  relationship  in 
Organic  Structure  can  be  due  to  no  other  cause  than  blood-re- 
lationship through  ordinary  generation.  At  present  I  am  only 
concerned  with  the  fact  of  unity,  whatever  may  be  the  physical 
cause  from  which  that  unity  has  arisen.  The  significance  of  it, 
as  establishing  Man's  place  in  the  Unity  of  Nature,  is  altogether 
independent  of  any  conclusion  which  may  be  reached  as  to 
those  processes  of  creation  by  which  his  body  has  been  fash- 
ioned on  a  plan  which  is  common  to  him  and  to  so  many  ani- 
mals beneath  him.  Whether  Man  has  been  separately  created 
out  of  the  inorganic  elements  of  which  his  body  is  composed, 
or  whether  it  was  born  of  matter  previously  organized  in  lower 
forms,  this  community  of  structure  must  equally  indicate  a  cor- 
responding community  of  relations  with  external  things,  and 
some  antecedent  necessity  deeply  seated  in  the  very  nature  of 
those  things,  why  his  bodily  frame  should  be  like  to  theirs. 

And,  indeed,  when  we  consider  the  matter,  it  is  sufficiently 
apparent  that  the  relationship  of  Man's  body  to  the  bodies  of 
the  lower  animals  is  only  a  subordinate  part  and  consequence 
of  that  higher  and  more  general  relationship  which  prevails  be- 
tween all  living  things  and  those  elementary  Forces  of  Nature 
which  play  in  them,  and  around  them,  and  upon  them.  If  we 
could  only  know  what  that  relationship  is  in  its  real  nature  and 
in  its  full  extent,  we  should  know  one  of  the  most  inscrutable 
of  all  secrets.  For  that  secret  is  no  other  than  the  ultimate 
nature  of  Life.  The  great  object  is  to  keep  the  little  knowledge 
of  it  which  we  possess  safe  from  the  confusing  effect  of  decep 

*  "  The  Reign  of  Law." 


MAN'S   PLACE    IN    THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE.  33 

tive  definitions.  The  real  unities  of  Nature  will  never  be 
reached  by  confounding  her  distinctions.  For  certain  purposes 
it  may  be  a  legitimate  attempt  to  reduce  the  definition  of  Life 
to  its  lowest  terms — that  is  to  say,  it  may  be  legitimate  to  fix 
our  attention  exclusively  on  those  characteristics  which  are  com- 
mon to  Life  in  its  lowest  and  in  its  highest  forms,  and  to  set 
aside  all  other  characteristics  in  which  they  differ.  It  may  be 
useful  sometimes  to  look  at  Life  under  the  terms  of  such  a  defi- 
nition, in  order,  for  example,  the  better  to  conceive  some  of  its 
relations  with  other  things.  But  in  doing  so  we  must  take  care 
not  to  drop  out  of  the  terms  so  defining  Life  anything  really  es- 
sential to  the  very  idea  of  it.  Artificial  definitions  of  this  kind 
are  dangerous  experiments  in  philosophy.  It  is  very  easy  by 
mere  artifices  of  language  to  obliterate  the  most  absolute  dis- 
tinctions which  exist  in  Nature.  Between  the  living  and  the 
non-living  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed,  and  the  indissoluble  con- 
nection which  somehow,  nevertheless,  we  know  to  exist  between 
them,  is  a  connection  which  does  not  fill  up  that  gulf,  but  is 
kept  up  by  some  bridge  being,  as  it  were,  artificially  built 
across  it.  This  unity,  like  the  other  unities  of  Nature,  is  not  a 
unity  consisting  of  mere  continuity  of  substance.  It  is  not 
founded  upon  sameness,  but,  on  the  contrary,  rather  upon  differ- 
ence, and  even  upon  antagonisms.  Only,  the  forces  which  are 
thus  different  and  opposed  are  subordinate  to  a  system  of  adap- 
tation and  adjustment. 

Nor  must  we  fail  to  notice  the  kind  of  unity  which  is  implied 
in  the  very  words  "  adaptation  "  and  "  adjustment  " — and, 
above  all  others,  in  the  special  adjustments  connected  with 
Organic  Life.  There  are  many  unions  which  do  not  involve 
the  idea  of  adjustment,  or  which  involve  it  only  in  the  most 
rudimentary  form.  The  mere  chemical  union,  for  example,  of 
two  or  more  elements — unless  under  special  conditions — is  not 
properly  an  adjustment.  We  should  not  naturally  call  the 
formation  of  rust  an  adjustment  between  the  oxygen  of  the 
atmosphere  and  metallic  iron.  When  the  combinations  effected 
by  the  play  of  chemical  affinities  are  brought  about  by  the 
selection  of  elements  so  placed  within  reach  of  each  other's 
reactions  as  to  result  in  a  given  product  then  that  product 
would  be  accurately  described  as  the  result  of  co-ordination 
3 


34  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

and  adjustment.  But  the  kind  of  co-ordination  and  adjustment 
which  appear  in  the  facts  of  Life  is  of  a  still  higher  and  more 
complicated  kind  than  this.  Whatever  the  relationship  may 
be  between  living  Organisms  and  the  elements,  or  elementary 
forces  of  external  Nature,  it  certainly  is  not  the  relationship 
of  mere  chemical  affinities.  On  the  contrary,  the  unions 
which  these  affinities  by  themselves  produce  can  only  be 
reached  through  the  dissolution  and  destruction  of  living 
bodies.  The  subjugation  of  chemical  forces  under  some  higher 
form  of  energy  which  works  them  for  the  continued  maintenance 
of  a  separate  individuality — this  is  of  the  very  essence  of  Life. 
The  destruction  of  that  separateness  or  individuality  is  of  the 
very  essence  of  Death.  It  is  not  Life,  but  the  cessation  of  Life, 
which,  in  this  sense  and  after  this  manner,  effects  a  chemical 
union  of  the  elements  of  the  body  with  the  same  and  with 
other  elements  around  it.  There  is  indeed  an  adjustment — a 
close  and  intricate  adjustment — between  the  chemical  affinities 
of  these  elements  as  they  are  combined  in  the  living  body; 
but  it  is  an  adjustment  of  them  under  the  controlling  energy  of 
a  power  which  cannot  be  identified  with  any  other,  and  which 
always  presents  phenomena  peculiar  to  itself.  Under  that 
power  we  see  that  the  laws  and  forces  of  Chemical  Affinity, 
as  exhibited  apart  from  Life,  are  held,  as  it  were,  to  service — 
compelled,  indeed,  to  minister,  but  not  allowed  to  rule. 
Through  an  infinite  variety  of  Organisms,  this  mysterious  sub- 
ordination is  maintained,  ministering  through  an  ascending 
series  to  higher  and  higher  grades  of  sensation,  perception, 
consciousness,  and  thought. 

And  here  we  come  in  sight  of  the  highest  adjustment  of  all. 
Sensation,  perception,  consciousness,  and  thought, — these,  if  they 
be  not  the  very  essence  of  Life,  are  at  least — in  their  order — its 
highest  accompaniments  and  result.  They  are  the  ultimate  facts, 
they  are  the  final  realities,  to  which  all  lesser  adjustments  are 
themselves  adjusted.  For,  as  the  elementary  substances  and  the 
elementary  Forces  of  Nature  which  are  used  in  the  building  of  the 
body  are  there  held  by  the  energies  of  Life  under  a  special  and 
peculiar  relation  to  those  same  elements  and  to  those  same 
forces  outside  the  body,  so  also  are  they  held  in  peculiar  rela- 
tions to  those  characteristic  powers  in  which  we  are  compelled 


MAN'S   PLACE   IN   THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE.  35 

to  recognize  the  rudimentary  faculties  of  Mind.  Sensation  is 
the  first  of  these,  and  if  it  be  the  lowest,  it  is  at  least  the  in- 
dispensable basis  of  all  the  rest.  As  such,  it  cannot  be  studied 
too  attentively  in  the  first  stages  of  its  appearance,  if  we  de- 
sire to  understand  the  unity  of  which  it  is  the  index  and  result. 
We  have  seen  that  the  mechanism  of  living  bodies  is  one 
throughout  the  whole  range  of  Animal  Life — one  in  its  general 
plan,  and  one  even  in  the  arrangement  of  many  of  its  details. 
We  have  seen,  too,  that  this  unity  rests  upon  that  other — in 
virtue  of  which  all  Organisms  depend  for  the  maintenance  of 
their  life,  upon  adjustments  to  certain  physical  laws  which  are 
held,  as  it  were,  in  vassalage,  and  compelled  to  service ;  doing 
in  that  service  what  they  never  do  alone,  and  not  doing  in  that 
service  what  they  always  do  when  freed  from  it. 

And  now  we  have  to  ask  what  that  service  is  ?  We  can  only 
say  that  it  is  the  service  of  Life  in  all  its  manifestations,  from 
those  which  we  see  in  the  lowest  creatures  up  to  the  highest  of 
which,  in  addition,  we  are  conscious  in  ourselves.  I  say  "in 
addition  " — because  this  is  the  fundamental  lesson  of  Physiol- 
ogy and  of  Comparative  Anatomy — that  the  principle  and  the 
mechanism  of  sensation  are  the  same  in  all  creatures,  at  least 
in  all  which  have  the  rudiments  of  a  nervous  system.  This  identity 
of  principle  and  of  structure  in  the  machinery  of  Sensation,  taken 
together  with  the  identity  of  the  outward  manifestations  which 
accompany  and  indicate  its  presence  in  animals,  makes  it  cer- 
tain that  in  itself  it  is  everywhere  the  same.  This  does  not 
mean,  of  course — very  far  from  it — that  the  range  of  pleasure 
or  of  pain  consequent  on  sensation — still  less  the  range  of  in- 
telligent perception — is  the  same  throughout  the  Animal  King- 
dom. The  range  of  pleasure  or  of  pain,  and  still  more  the 
range  of  intelligent  perception,  depends  on  the  association  of 
higher  faculties  with  mere  sensations,  and  upon  other  peculiari- 
ties or  conditions  of  Organization.  We  all  know  by  our  own 
experience  when  comparing  ourselves  with  ourselves  in  differ- 
ent states  of  health  or  of  disease,  and  by  observing  the  like 
facts  in  others,  that  the  degree  of  pleasure  or  of  suffering,  of 
emotion  or  of  intellectual  activity,  which  is  connected  with 
sensation,  may  be  almost  infinitely  various  according  to  various 
conditions  of  the  body.  But  this  does  not  affect  the  general 


36  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

proposition  that  Sensation  is  in  itself  one  thing  throughout  the 
Animal  Kingdom.  It  cannot  be  defined  in  language,  because 
all  language  is  founded  on  it,  assumes  it  to  be  known,  and  uses 
the  metaphors  it  supplies  for  the  expression  of  our  highest 
intellectual  conceptions.  But  though  it  cannot  be  defined, 
this  at  least  we  can  say  concerning  it,  that  Sensation  is  the 
characteristic  property  of  Animal  Life  ;  that  it  is  an  affection  of 
the  "  Anima"  of  that  which  distinguishes  animate  from  inani- 
mate things,  and  that  as  such  it  constitutes  one  of  the  most 
essential  of  the  fundamental  properties  of  Mind. 

So  true  is  this,  that  the  very  word  "  Idea  "  which  has  played 
a  memorable  part  in  the  history  of  speculation,  and  which  in 
common  speech  has  now  come  to  be  generally  associated  with 
the  highest  intellectual  abstractions,  has  had  in  modern  philos- 
)phy  no  other  definite  meaning  than  the  impressions  or  mental 
jnages  received  through  the  senses.  This  is  the  meaning  at- 
tached to  it  (although,  perhaps,  no  writer  has  ever  adhered  to 
it  with  perfect  consistency)  in  the  writings  of  Descartes,  of 
Locke,  and  of  Bishop  Berkeley ;  and  it  is  well  worthy  of  re- 
mark that  the  most  extreme  doctrine  of  Idealism,  which  denies 
the  reality  of  Matter,  and,  indeed,  the  reality  of  everything  ex- 
cept Mind,  is  a  doctrine  which  may  be  as  logically  founded 
upon  sensation  in  a  Zoophyte  as  upon  sensation  in  a  Man, 
The  famous  proposition  of  Bishop  Berkeley,  which  he  considers 
as  almost  self-evidently  true,  "that  the  various  sensations,  or 
ideas  imprinted  on  the  sense,  cannot  exist  otherwise  than  in 
the  Mind  perceiving  them,"  is  a  proposition  clearly  applicable 
to  all  forms  of  sensation  whatever.  For  every  sensation  of  an 
Organism  is  equally  in  the  nature  of  an  "  Idea  "  in  being  an 
affection  of  the  living  principle,  which  alone  is  susceptible  of 
;uch  affections;  and  it  is  plainly  impossible  to  conceive  any 
'>ense-impression  whatever  as  existing  outside  a  living  and  per. 
ceiving  creature. 

We  are  now,  indeed,  so  accustomed  to  attach  the  word 
"Idea"  to  the  highest  exercises  of  Mind,  and  to  confine  the 
word  "Mind"  itself  to  some  of  its  higher  manifestations,  that 
it  may  startle  some  men  to  be  told  that  sensation  is  in  itself  a 
mental  affection.  We  have,  however,  only  to  consider  for  a 
moment  how  inseparably  connected  sensation  is  with  appetite 


and  with  perception,  to  be  convinced  that  in  the  phenomena 
of  sensation  we  have  the  first  raw  materials  and  the  first  small 
beginnings  of  Intelligence  and  of  Will.  It  is  this  fundamental 
character  of  sensation  which  explains  and  justifies  the  asser- 
tion of  Philosophers — an  assertion  which  at  first  sight  appears 
to  be  a  mere  paradox — that  the  "  Ideas  "  we  receive  through 
the  senses  have  no  "  likeness  "  to  the  objects  they  represent. 
For  that  assertion,  after  all,  means  nothing  more  than  this — 
that  the  impressions  made  by  external  things  upon  living  Be- 
ings through  the  senses,  are  in  themselves  mental  impressions, 
and  as  such  cannot  be  conceived  as  like  in  their  own  nature  to 
inanimate  and  external  objects.  It  is  the  mental  quality  of  all 
sensation,  considered  in  itself,  which  is  really  affirmed  in  this 
denial  of  likeness  between  the  affections  of  sense  and  the 
things  which  produce  those  affections  in  us.  It  is  one  of  the 
many  forms  in  which  we  are  compelled  to  recognize  the  incon- 
ceivableness  of  any  sort  of  resemblance  between  Mind  and 
Matter,  between  external  things  and  our  own  perceptive  pow- 
ers. 

And  yet  it  is  across  this  great  gulf  of  difference — apparently 
so  broad  and  so  profound — that  the  highest  Unity  of  Nature  is 
nevertheless  established.  Matter  built  up  and  woven  into  "  Or- 
gans "  under  the  powers  of  Life  is  the  strong  foundation  on 
which  this  unity  is  established.  It  is  the  unity  which  exists  be- 
tween the  living  Organism  and  the  elements  around  it  which 
renders  that  Organism  the  appropriate  channel  of  mental  com- 
munication with  the  external  world,  and  a  faithful  interpreter 
of  its  signs.  And  this  the  Organism  is — not  only  by  virtue  of 
its  substance  and  composition,  but  also  and  especially  by  virtue 
of  its  adjusted  structures.  All  the  organs  of  sense  discharge 
their  functions  in  virtue  of  a  purely  mechanical  adjustment  be- 
tween the  structure  of  the  Organ  and  the  particular  form  of  ex- 
ternal force  which  it  is  intended  to  receive  and  to  transmit. 
How  fine  those  adjustments  are  can  best  be  understood  when 
we  remember  that  the  retina  of  the  eye  is  a  machine  which 
measures  and  distinguishes  between  vibrations  which  are  now 
known  to  differ  from  each  other  by  only  a  few  millionths  of  an 
inch.  Yet  this  amount  of  difference  is  recorded  and  made  in- 
stantly appreciable  in  the  sensations  of  color  by  the  adjusted 


3$  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

mechanism  of  the  eye.  Another  adjustment,  precisely  the 
same  in  principle,  between  the  vibrations  of  Sound  and  the 
structure  of  the  ear,  enables  those  vibrations  to  be  similarly 
distinguished  in  another  special  form  of  the  manifold  language 
of  sensation.  And  so  of  all  the  other  organs  of  sense — they 
all  perform  their  work  in  virtue  of  that  purely  mechanical  ad- 
justment which  places  them  in  a  given  relation  to  certain  se- 
lected manifestations  of  external  force,  and  these  they  faith, 
fully  transmit,  according  to  a  code  of  signals,  the  nature  of 
which  is  one  of  the  primary  mysteries  of  Life,  but  the  truthful- 
ness of  which  is  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  certain  of  its 
facts. 

For  it  is  upon  this  truthfulness — that  is  to  say,  upon  a  close 
and  efficient  correspondence  between  the  impressions  of  Sense 
and  certain  corresponding  realities  of  external  Nature — that  the 
success  of  every  Organism  depends  in  the  battle  of  life.  And  all 
Life  involves  a  battle.  It  comes  indeed  to  each  animal  without 
effort  of  its  own,  but  it  cannot  be  maintained  without  individual 
exertion.  That  exertion  may  be  of  the  simplest  kind,  nothing 
more  than  the  rhythmic  action  of  a  muscle  contracting  and  ex- 
panding so  as  to  receive  into  a  sac  such  substances  as  currents 
of  water  may  bring  along  with  them ;  or  it  may  be  the  more 
complex  action  required  to  make  or  induce  the  very  currents 
which  are  to  bring  the  food ;  or  it  may  be  the  much  more  com- 
plex exertions  required  in  all  active  locomotion  for  the  pursuit 
and  capture  of  prey :  all  these  forms  of  exertion  exist,  and  are 
all  required  in  endless  variety  in  the  animal  world.  And 
throughout  the  whole  of  this  vast  series  the  very  life  of  every 
creature  depends  on  the  unity  which  exists  between  its  sense- 
impressions  and  those  realities  of  the  external  world  which  are 
specially  related  to  them.  There  is  therefore  no  conception  of 
the  Mind  which  rests  on  a  broader  basis  of  experience  than 
that  which  affirms  this  unity — a  unity  which  constitutes  and 
guarantees  the  various  senses  with  their  corresponding  appe- 
tites, each  in  its  own  sphere  of  adapted  relations,  to  be  exact 
and  faithful  interpreters  of  external  truth. 

A  still  more  wonderful  and  striking  proof  is  obtained  of  the 
Unity  of  Nature,  and  a  still  more  instructive  light  is  cast  upon 
the  depth  of  its  source  and  character,  when  we  observe  how 


MAN'S   PLACE   IN   THE  UNITY   OF   NATURE.  39 

far-reaching  these  interpretations  of  sense  are  even  in  the  very 
lowest  creatures :  how  they  are  true  not  only  in  the  immediate 
impressions  they  convey,  but  true  also  as  the  index  of  truths 
which  lie  behind  and  beyond — of  truths,  that  is  to  say,  which 
are  not  expressly  included — not  directly  represented — in  either 
sensation  or  perception.  This,  indeed,  is  one  main  function 
and  use,  and  one  universal  characteristic,  of  all  sense-impres- 
sions, that  over  and  above  the  pleasure  they  give  to  sentient 
creatures,  they  lead  and  guide  to  acts  required  by  natural  laws 
which  are  not  themselves  objects  of  sensation  at  all,  and  which 
therefore  the  creatures  conforming  to  them  cannot  possibly 
either  see  or  comprehend.  It  is  thus  that  the  appetite  of  hun- 
ger and  the  sense  of  taste,  which  in  some  form  or  other,  how- 
ever low,  is  perhaps  the  most  universal  sensation  of  animal  Or- 
ganisms, is  true  not  only  as  a  guide  to  the  substances  which  do 
actually  gratify  the  sense  concerned,  but  true  also  in  its  un- 
seen and  unfelt  relations  with  those  demands  or  laws  of  force 
which  render  the  assimilation  of  new  material  an  indispensa- 
ble necessity  in  the  maintenance  of  Animal  Life.  Throughout 
the  whole  Kingdom  of  Nature  this  law  prevails.  Sense-per- 
ceptions are  in  all  animals  indissolubly  united  with  instantane- 
ous impulses  to  action.  This  action  is  always  directed  to  ex- 
ternal beings.  It  finds  in  these  things  the  satisfaction  of  what- 
ever desire  is  immediately  concerned,  and  beyond  this  it  minis- 
ters to  ends  of  which  the  animal  knows  nothing,  but  which  are 
of  the  highest  importance  both  in  its  own  economy  and  in  the 
general  economy  of  Nature. 

The  wonderful  instincts  of  the  lower  animals — the  precision 
and  perfection  of  their  work — are  a  glorious  example  of  this 
far-reaching  adjustment  between  the  perceptions  of  sense  and 
the  laws  which  prevail  in  the  external  world.  Narrow  as  the 
sphere  of  those  perceptions  may  be,  yet  within  that  sphere 
they  are  almost  absolutely  true.  And  although  the  sphere  is 
indeed  narrow  as  regards  the  very  low  and  limited  Intelligence 
with  which  it  is  associated  in  the  animals  themselves,  it  is  a 
sphere  which  beyond  the  scope  of  their  Intelligence  can  be  seen 
to  place  them  in  unconscious  relation  with  endless  vistas  of  co- 
ordinated action.  The  sentient  actions  of  the  lower  animals  in- 
volve not  merely  the  rudimentary  power  of  perceiving  the  differ- 


4O  THE    UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

ences  which  distinguish  things,  but  the  much  higher  power  of 
profiting  by  those  relations  between  things  which  are  the  foun- 
dation of  all  voluntary  agency,  and  which  place  in  the  possession 
of  living  creatures  the  power  of  attaining  ends  through  the  em- 
ployment of  appropriate  means.  The  direct  and  intuitive  per- 
ception of  things  which  stand  in  the  relation  of  means  to  ends, 
though  it  may  be  entirely  dissociated  from  any  conscious  recog- 
nition of  this  relation  in  itself— that  is  to  say,  the  direct  and  in- 
tuitive perception  of  the  necessity  of  doing  one  thing  in  order  to 
attain  to  another  thing — is  in  itself  one  of  the  very  highest 
among  the  pre-adjusted  harmonies  of  Nature.  For  it  must  be 
remembered  that  those  relations  between  things  which  render 
them  capable  of  being  used  as  means  to  ends,  are  relations 
which  never  can  be  the  direct  objects  of  Sensation,  and  there- 
fore the  power  of  acting  upon  them  is  an  intuition  of  some- 
thing which  is  out  of  sight.  It  is  a  kind  of  dim  seeing  of  that 
which  is  invisible.  And  even  if  it  be  separated  entirely  in 
the  lower  animals — as  it  almost  certainly  is — from  anything 
comparable  with  our  own  prescient  and  reasoning  powers,  it 
does  not  the  less  involve  in  them'  a  true  and  close  relation  be- 
tween their  instincts  and  the  Order  of  Nature  with  its  laws. 

The  spinning  machinery  which  is  provided  in  the  body  of  a 
Spider  is  not  more  accurately  adjusted  to  the  viscid  secretion 
which  is  provided  for  it,  than  the  instinct  of  the  Spider  is  ad- 
justed both  to  the  construction  of  its  web  and  also  to  the  selec- 
tion of  likely  places  for  the  capture  of  its  prey.  Those  birds 
and  insects  whose  young  are  hatched  by  the  heat  of  fermentation 
have  an  intuitive  impulse  to  select  the  proper  materials,  and  to 
gather  them  for  the  purpose.  All  creatures,  guided  sometimes 
apparently  by  senses  of  which  we  know  nothing,  are  under  like 
impulses  to  provide  effectually  for  the  nourishing  of  their  young. 
It  is,  moreover,  most  curious  and  instructive  to  observe  that  the 
extent  of  prevision  which  is  involved  in  this  process,  and  in  the 
securing  of  the  result,  seems  very  often  to  be  greater  as  we  de- 
scend in  the  scale  of  Nature,  and  in  proportion  as  the  parents 
are  dissociated  from  the  actual  feeding  or  personal  care  of  their 
young.  The  Mammalia  have  nothing  to  provide  except  food 
for  themselves,  and  have  at  first,  and  for  a  long  time,  no  duty  to 
perform  beyond  the  discharge  of  a  purely  physical  function, 


MAN'S    PLACE   IN   THri   UNITY   OF   NATURE.  41 

Milk  is  secreted  in  them  by  a  purely  unconscious  process,  and 
the  young  need  no  instruction  in  the  art  of  sucking.  Birds  have 
much  more  to  do — in  the  building  of  nests,  in  the  choice  of  sites 
for  these,  and  after  incubation,  in  the  choice  of  food  adapted  to 
the  period  of  growth.  Insects,  much  lower  in  the  scale  of  Or- 
ganization, have  to  provide  very  often  for  a  much  more  distant 
future,  and  for  various  stages  of  development  not  only  in  their 
own  young  but  in  the  nidus  which  surrounds  them. 

There  is  one  group  of  insects,  well  known  to  every  observer — 
the  common  Gall-flies — which  have  the  power  of  calling  on  the 
vegetable  world  to  do  for  them  the  work  of  nest-building ;  and  in 
reponse  to  the  means  with  which  these  insects  are  provided,  the 
Oak,  or  the  Willow,  or  the  Rose,  does  actually  lend  its  power  of 
growth  to  provide  a  special  nidus  by  which  the  plant  protects  the 
young  insect  as  carefully  as  it  protects  its  own  seed.  I  shall 
dwell  on  this  example  for  a  moment,  because  it  is  not  easy  to 
exhaust  the  wonders  which  are  involved  in  this  cycle  of  opera- 
tions. For  it  is  to  be  observed  that  they  are  not  operations  con' 
ducted  according  to  the  ordinary  laws  of  Nature.  It  is  indeed 
according  to  that  ordinary  course  that  vegetable  Organisms 
should  pour  out  their  juices  when  they  are  wounded.  It  is  an  in- 
cident of  their  lower  organization,  and  lower  rank  in  the  scale  of 
life,  that  they  can  bleed  more  copiously  from  such  wounds  with' 
out  fatal  injury  than  it  would  be  possible  for  animals  to  bleed. 
But  the  flow  of  the  juices  under  such  circumstances  is  as  it  were 
a  heedless  flow — vacant  of  any  purpose  or  intention — discharg- 
ing no  function  in  the  vegetable  economy  or  in  the  economy  of 
external  Nature.  Least  of  all  has  it  any  regard  to  life  other 
than  its  own.  If  any  insect  be  involved  in  that  flow,  the  conse- 
quences to  it  are  instant  death.  Its  legs  and  wings  are  clogged. 
its  respiratory  orifices  are  filled  up,  and  every  function  of  its 
body  is  stopped  forever.  It  is  thus  that  some  of  the  insects 
of  a  former  age  in  the  world's  history  have  been  preserved  to  us 
by  the  exudations  of  some  unknown  species  of  Pine,  whose 
hardened  gum  is  known  to  us  as  Amber.  It  is  also  according 
to  the  ordinary  course  of  Nature  that  foreign  substances  in- 
troduced into  the  growing  tissues  of  a  plant  should  be  sur- 
rounded by  those  tissues  and  involved  in  them.  But  here  also 
the  involvement  is  purely  mechanical,  and  the  grip  with  which 


42  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

the  intruding  substance  is  seized  and  held,  is  a  grip  blind  and 
ruthless.  Bands  of  the  strongest  iron  are  often  thus  involved, 
and  are  burst  asunder  like  green  withes  by  the  slow  but  tre- 
mendous energies  of  vegetable  growth.  The  woody  fibre,  too, 
which  surrounds  such  substances,  is  very  apt  to  be  the  hard- 
est and  toughest  of  all,  and  this  is  almost  invariably  the  case 
with  the  growths  which  arise  from  injury  or  disease,  with  the 
wens  and  excrescences  on  the  bark  and  stems  of  trees. 

It  is  therefore  in  absolute  difference  and  contradistinction 
from  all  these  natural  laws,  that  the  Oak,  for  example,  is  made 
to  provide  out  of  its  own  substance  a  wonderful  nest  for  the  egg 
and  Jarva  of  the  Gall-fly.  If  we  examine  one  form  of  these  nests, 
for  example,  that  of  the  Marble  Gall  (which  is  the  nest  of  the 
species  known  to  entomologists  as  the  Cynips  Kollert],  we  shall 
find  that  there  has  been  formed  on  the  branch  or  twig  of  the 
Oak  a  globular  body  of  the  most  curious  and  complex  structure. 
Externally,  it  has  a  skin  which  imitates  the  natural  bark.  In- 
ternally, it  consists  of  a  pithy  tissue  which  is  wholly  unlike  any 
of  the  tissues  produced  by  the  Oak  under  its  natural  conditions. 
It  is  a  radiating  tissue,  and  yet  it  does  not  radiate  from  the  point 
which  is  its  apparent  point  of  growth  or  of  attachment  to  the 
stalk.  It  radiates  from  its  own  centre, — or  rather  from  a  little 
cell  or  chamber  which  occupies  that  centre.  This  cell  or  cham- 
ber is  internally  quite  smooth,  has  a  thin  wall  of  hardened  ma- 
terial, and  is  of  the  exact  size  and  capacity  which  will  admit  of 
the  insect  larva  being  coiled  up  comfortably  within  it,  and  of  at- 
taining there  a  certain  definite  degree  of  development  or  of 
growth.  Outside  the  thin  wall  of  this  cell  or  chamber,  and  be- 
tween it  and  the  external  bark,  the  whole  sphere  is  filled  with  a 
substance  which  may  be  described  as  a  granular  pith  which  ra- 
diates in  all  directions  from  the  cell  to  the  circumference.  If 
one  of  these  Galls  be  cut  or  broken  open  in  the  autumn  when  it 
is  becoming  ripe,  and  if  the  cut  be  made  so  as  to  expose  the 
whole  in  section,  one  of  the  most  curious  sights  in  Nature  is  ex- 
posed to  view.  The  grub  is  seen  folded  in  its  pregnant  rest. 
The  mysterious  changes  which  are  going  on  in  its  body  are  indeed 
invisible.  And  so  also  are  the  equally  mysterious  processes  by 
which  that  body  came  to  be  there  at  all,  and  to  be  provided  with 
such  a  home.  These  processes  are  wholly  different  in  kind  from 


MAN'S    PLACE    IN    THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE.  43 

all  others  in  Nature.  Among  birds,  the  embryo  chick  is  hatched 
within  a  shell  which  has  indeed  a  wonderful  structure  and  many 
curious  properties.  But  that  shell  is  constructed  in  the  ovary  of 
the  mother-bird,  and  out  of  calcareous  material  which  that  mother 
has  taken  in  as  food.  The  Dormouse  builds  the  nest  in  which 
itself  hybernates.  It  is  a  wonderful  structure,  built  from  the 
inside  outwards,  suspended  also  by  the  inmate,  before  it  closes 
the  final  aperture,  upon  the  bough  of  some  sheltered  thicket,  and 
so  warmly  spun  that  neither  the  rains  nor  cold  of  winter  can 
pierce  the  texture  and  chill  the  sleeper.  But  in  this  case  the 
animal  has  the  mechanical  weapons  by  which  the  material  can 
be  cut  and  can  be  woven.  The  Caterpillar  also  spins  its  own 
cocoon  ;  but  here  also  the  spinning  machinery  is  given  to  the 
creature,  and  the  secretions  of  its  own  body  are  sufficient  to  pro- 
vide the  threads,  which,  when  farther  woven,  are  the  richest  and 
costliest  of  human  garments.  But  there  is  no  similar  explana- 
tion of  this  strange  abode  of  the  larva  of  the  Gall-fly.  It  has  no 
means  of  making  the  nest  in  which  it  lies  :  the  material  does  not 
come  from  its  own  body,  nor  from  the  bodies  of  its  parents. 
Neither  is  that  material  even  woven  or  built  or  fashioned  by  the 
one  or  by  the  other.  Across  a  great  gap  and  gulf  in  Nature — 
even  that  which  separates  a  highly-organized  plant  from  a  highly- 
organized  insect — this  strange  unity  of  co-operation  has  been 
effected.  The  Oak  has  yielded  up  its  juices  to  protect  a  stranger : 
they  overflow  it  without  venturing  to  involve  it, — circling  round 
it  and  bending  over  it, — as  if  in  awe  before  a  Life  which  is 
higher  than  their  own.  If  it  be  true  that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
was  not  arrayed  like  a  flower,  it  is  equally  true  that  neither 
Solomon  when  an  infant,  nor  any  child  of  Man,  has  ever  been 
cradled  as  this  insect  is.  All  the  richest  products  of  Nature  and 
of  art  are  sometimes  lavished  on  the  little  bed  which  is  to  hold 
a  human  infant.  For  these  purposes,  and  for  a  thousand  others 
like  to  these,  Nature  yields  to  Man  her  dead  products,  but  she 
never  yields  her  living  powers.  Yet  for  the  nurture  and  protec- 
tion of  this  poor  maggot,  the  most  secret  of  these  powers  are 
held  to  labor.  The  forces  of  vegetable  growth  work  for  it  as 
they  never  work  even  for  their  own  natural  organs.  They  se- 
crete for  it  a  peculiar  substance  ;  they  mould  it  into  a  peculiar 
form  ;  they  hang  it  out  in  the  light  and  air  as  if  it  were  their  own 


44  THE    UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

fruit ;  they  even  exhaust  themselves  in  its  service,  and  their  own 
flowers  and  leaves  are  often  cankered  in  its  support. 

All  this  is  an  exception  to  ordinary  laws :  a  break,  as  it 
might  almost  seem,  in  the  Unity  and  in  the  Continuity  of  Na- 
ture. And  so  in  a  sense  it  is.  It  is  no  natural  function  of  the 
Oak  or  of  the  Rose  to  produce  these  Galls.  They  are  in  one 
sense  of  the  word  unnatural,  and  in  the  truest  sense  of  the 
word  highly  artificial.  But  this  is  the  very  character  which 
reveals  their  place  in  the  Unity  of  Nature  by  revealing  them 
in  connection  with  a  higher  circle  of  laws  than  those  in  or- 
dinary operation.  Under  these  higher  laws,  the  mere  phys- 
ical and  vital  forces  are  seen  to  be  as  clay  in  the  hands  of 
the  Potter.  Their  subordination  may  be  hidden  sometimes, 
at  least  to  our  blind  eyes,  under  the  Uniformities  of  Nature  : 
but  it  becomes,  as  it  were,  almost  tangible  and  visible  when 
these  Uniformities  are  so  strangely  broken.  And  yet  in  what 
may  be  called  this  distortion  of  Vegetable  vitality  to  purposes 
which  are  in  a  sense  unnatural,  there  is  no  breach  in  the 
great  mental  law  which  demands  the  special  adaptation  of 
means  to  ends.  This  adaptation  is  revealed  when  we  examine 
the  structure  of  the  mother  Gall-fly.  It  then  becomes  at  once 
apparent  that  the  Gall  is  produced  by  the  operation  of  an  elab- 
orate apparatus.  This  apparatus  is  so  elaborate  and  so  com- 
plicated that  the  most  eminent  Entomologists  have  been  exer- 
cised upon  its  mechanism  since  the  days  of  Reaumur,  without 
being  able  fully  to  explain  or  understand  it.  The  general  prin- 
ciple, indeed,  or  idea  of  the  apparatus  appears  to  be  ascertained. 
It  is  an  apparatus  for  inserting  the  egg  of  the  fly  into  vegetable 
tissue,  with  such  effects  upon  that  tissue,  both  by  mechanical 
injury  and  by  chemical  poisoning,  that  the  plant  is  stimulated 
and  excited  to  abnormal  action  and  to  artificial  growths.  For 
this  extraordinary  purpose,  and  with  this  most  mysterious  and 
complicated  result,  there  is  elaborated  in  the  body  of  the  fly 
implements  for  boring,  for  rasping,  for  brushing,  for  irritating 
by  mechanical  means  the  substance  of  the  plant.  The  same  im- 
plements are  farther  made  to  subserve  the  function  of  inserting 
the  egg,  and  along  with  it  of  inserting  also  some  acrid  animal 
secretion  which  has  a  specific  action  on  the  secretions  of  the 
plant.  This  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  all  that  is  known 


MAN'S    PLACE   IN   THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE.  45 

about  it.  It  leaves  the  special  mystery  of  the  result  wholly  un- 
explained ;  because  in  no  other  case,  and  under  no  other  guid- 
ance, can  either  mechanical  injury  or  chemical  poisoning  pro- 
duce in  plants  any  morbid  growth  which  is  other  than  regard- 
less of  the  interests  and  of  the  life  of  external  Organisms.  But 
although  the  method  of  operation  is  wholly  inexplicable,  and 
the  general  result  remains  as  exceptional  as  before,  yet  the  fact 
of  it  being  done  by  an  apparatus  as  special  and  exceptional  as 
the  result,  is  a  fact  which  brings  it  at  once  within  the  Unity  of 
Nature  in  the  highest  sense  in  which  that  Unity  is  intelligible 
to  us.  We  can  at  least  see  that  it  is  done  by  knowing  how  to 
do  it.  The  great  gap  and  gulf  which  lies  in  Organization  be- 
tween the  Plant  and  the  Insect  is  spanned  and  arched  across 
by  knowledge  of  intimate  relations  between  them  which  are 
unknown  to  us,  and  by  command  over  resources  which  bring 
these  relations  into  artificial  co-operation. 

And  then  when  this  recognition  is  arrived  at,  other  recogni- 
tions follow,  which  bring  into  closer  and  closer  correspondence 
the  phenomena  of  our  own  Mind,  and  the  peculiar  series  of 
phenomena  which  in  the  case  of  the  Gall-flies  are  to  be  ob- 
served in  Nature.  For  just  as  the  human  Mind,  when  a  new 
idea  has  shone  upon  it,  reflects  that  idea  in  a  variety  of  forms, 
and  finds  new  and  ever  newer  applications  for  it,  so  it  tran- 
spires that  in  like  manner  Nature,  having  as  it  were  entered 
upon  this  very  special  line  of  contrivance  for  the  development 
of  insect  life,  pursues  it  through  every  form  and  variety  of  de- 
vice. Not  only  are  there  a  great  variety  of  Galls  produced  by 
different  species  of  fly  upon  different  species  of  tree,  but  a 
great  variety  is  produced  upon  the  same  tree  by  the  different 
apparatus  with  which  different  flies  are  armed.  The  bark  is 
attacked  by  one  species,  the  leaves  by  another;  the  young 
shoots,  the  parts  of  fructification,  and  even  the  tendrils  of  the 
roots,  have,  each  and  all,  some  special  form  of  Gall-fly  to  whom 
they  are  compelled  to  yield  their  various  powers  and  functions. 
But  in  every  case  those  functions  are  as  it  were  perverted  from 
the  ordinary  course  of  Nature,  and  develop  products  unlike  to 
any  which  they  develop  when  that  ordinary  course  is  not  inter- 
fered with.  The  Galls  which  hang  upon  the  Catkins  are  like  a 
bunch  of  grapes.  The  root  produces  a  large  Gall,  in  which  are 


46  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

chambers  provided  for  a  whole  colony  of  grubs.  Some  Galls 
are  prickly,  some  are  branched,  and  some  resemble  little  arti- 
chokes. Others  are  of  the  color  and  consistency  of  waxy  ap- 
ples. One  foreign  species  is  invaluable  in  the  manufacture  of 
ink,  because  the  united  chemistry  of  the  insect  and  the  plant 
have  there  produced  an  acid  which  Nature  does  not  elsewhere 
distil.* 

I  Now,  it  is  to  be  observed  of  all  this  wonderful  combination 
knd  co-operation  of  agencies,  animal  and  vegetable,  that  the 
blind  appetite  and  instinct  of  the  creature,  which  impels  it  to 
set  this  apparatus  to  work  in  the  proper  place,  is  an  instinct  in 
which  the  whole  knowledge  and  foreknowledge  of  these  opera- 
tions is  hidden  and  implied.  The  perceptions  of  taste,  or  of 
smell,  or  of  whatever  other  sense  they  may  have,  and  which 
we  have  not,  which  determine  the  choice  of  the  fly  and  make 
it  select  the  right  portion  of  the  plant  for  the  work  of  deposit- 
ing its  egg,  are  perceptions  which  are  true  for  a  long  way  be- 
yond the  immediate  operation  which  they  at  once  stimulate 
and  direct.  They  are  perceptions  which  stand  in  unbroken — 
though  they  are  unseen — relations  with  a  whole  world  beyond 
that  which  the  creature  sees,  and  with  a  distant  future. 

There  is  another  example  of  the  same  wealth  of  meaning  in 
animal  instincts  which  in  some  points  of  view  is  even  more  re- 
markable. Bees,  if  we  are  to  believe  the  evidence  of  observers, 
have  an  intuitive  guidance  in  the  selection  of  food,  which  has 
the  power  of  producing  organic  changes  in  the  bodies  of  the 
young,  and  by  the  administration  of  which,  under  what  may  be 
called  artificial  conditions,  the  sex  of  certain  selected  individ- 
uals can  be  determined,  so  that  they  may  become  the  mothers 
and  queens  of  future  hives. 

These  are  but  a  few  examples  of  facts  of  which  the  whole 
animal  world  is  full,  presenting,  as  it  does,  one  vast  series  of 
adjustments  between  bodily  Organs  and  corresponding  instincts. 
But  this  adjustment  would  be  useless  unless  it  were  part  of  an- 
other adjustment  between  the  instincts  and  perceptions  of  ani- 
mals and  those  facts  and  forces  of  surrounding  Nature  which  are 
related  to  them,  and  to  the  whole  cycle  of  things  of  which  they 

*  West-wood's  Introduction  to  the  Modern  Classification  of  Insects,  vol.  ii.,  the 
Cynipidse,  passim. 


MAN'S   PLACE    IN   THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE.  47 

form  a  part.  In  those  instinctive  actions  of  the  lower  animals 
which  involve  the  most  distant  and  the  most  complicated  anti- 
cipations, it  is  clear  that  the  prevision  which  is  involved  is  a 
prevision  which  is  not  in  the  animals  themselves.  They  ap- 
pear to  be  guided  by  some  simple  appetite,  by  an  odor  or  a 
taste,  and  they  have  obviously  no  more  consciousness  of  the 
ends  to  be  subserved,  or  of  the  mechanism  by  which  they  are 
secured,  than  the  suckling  has  of  the  processes  of  nutrition. 
The  path  along  which  they  walk  is  a  path  which  they  did  not 
engineer.  It  is  a  path  made  for  them,  and  they  simply  follow 
it.  But  the  propensities  and  tastes  and  feelings  which  make 
them  follow  it,  and  the  Tightness  of  its  direction  towards  the 
ends  to  be  attained,  do  constitute  a  Unity  of  Adjustment  which 
binds  together  the  whole  world  of  Life,  and  the  whole  inorganic 
world  on  which  living  things  depend. 

I  have  called  this  adjustment  mechanical,  and  so,  in  the 
strictest  sense,  it  is.  We  must  take  care,  however,  not  to  let 
our  conceptions  of  the  realities  of  Nature  be  rendered  indis- 
tinct by  those  elements  of  metaphor  which  abound  in  language. 
These  elements,  indeed,  when  kept  in  their  proper  places,  are 
not  only  the  indispensable  auxiliaries  of  thought,  but  they 
represent  those  perceptions  of  the  mind  which  are  the  highest 
and  the  most  absolutely  true.  They  are  the  recognition — often 
the  unconscious  recognition — of  the  central  Unities  of  Nature. 
Nevertheless,  they  are  the  prolific  source  of  error  when  not 
closely  watched.  Because  all  the  functions  and  phenomena  of 
Life  appear  to  be  strictly  connected  with  an  Apparatus,  and 
may  therefore  be  regarded  as  brought  about  by  adjustments 
which  are  mechanical,  therefore  it  has  been  concluded  that 
those  phenomena,  even  the  most  purely  mental,  are  mechanical 
in  the  same  sense  in  which  the  work  is  called  mechanical 
which  human  machines  perform.  Are  not  all  animals  "  Auto- 
mata ? "  Are  they  not  "  mere  machines  ?  "  This  question  has 
been  revived  from  age  to  age  since  philosophy  began,  and  has 
been  discussed  in  our  own  time  with  all  the  aid  which  the  most 
recent  physiological  experiment  can  afford.  It  is  a  question  of 
extreme  interest  in  its  bearing  on  our  present  subject.  The 
sense  in  which,  and  the  degree  to  which,  all  mental  phenomena 
are  founded  on,  and  are  the  result  of,  mechanical  adjustments, 


48  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE, 

is  a  question  of  the  highest  interest  and  importance.  The 
phenomena  of  Instinct,  as  exhibited  in  the  lower  animals,  are 
undoubtedly  the  field  of  observation  in  which  the  solution  of 
this  question  may  best  be  found,  and  I  cannot  better  explain 
the  aspect  in  which  it  presents  itself  to  me,  than  by  discussing 
it  in  connection  with  certain  exhibitions  of  Animal  Instinct 
which  I  had  occasion  to  observe  during  the  spring  and  summer 
of  1874.  They  were  not  uncommon  cases.  On  the  contrary, 
they  were  of  a  kind  of  which  the  whole  world  is  full.  But  not 
the  less  directly  did  they  suggest  all  the  problems  under  dis- 
cussion, and  not  the  less  forcibly  did  they  strike  me  with  the 
admiration  and  the  wonder  which  no  familiarity  can  exhaust. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS   RELATION  TO   THE  MIND   OF  MAN. 

THE  Dipper  or  Water-ousel  (Cinclus  aquaticus)  is  well  known 
to  Ornithologists  as  one  of  the  most  curious  and  interesting  of 
British  birds.  Its  special  habitat  is  clear  mountain  streams. 
These  it  never  leaves  except  to  visit  the  lakes  into  which  or 
from  which  they  flow.  Without  the  assistance  of  webbed  feet, 
it  has  extraordinary  powers  of  swimming  and  of  diving — moving 
about  upon  and  under  the  surface  with  more  than  the  ease  and 
dexterity  of  a  fish — hunting  along  the  bottom  as  if  it  had  no 
power  to  float — floating  on  the  top  as  if  it  had  no  power  to  sink 
— now  diving  where  the  stream  is  smooth,  now  where  it  is 
quick  and  broken,  and  suddenly  reappearing  perched  on  the 
summit  of  some  projecting  point.  Its  plumage  is  in  perfect 
harmony  with  its  haunts — dark,  with  a  pure  white  breast,  which 
looks  exactly  like  one  of  the  flashes  of  light  so  numerous  in 
rapid  streams,  or  one  of  the  little  balls  of  foam  which  loiter 
among  the  stones.  Its  very  song  is  set  to  the  music  of  rapid 
waters.  By  .careful  stepping  along  the  top  of  a  river-bank  one 
can  often  get  quite  close  to  the  Dipper  when  it  is  singing,  and 
the  harmony  of  its  notes  with  the  tinkling  of  the  stream  is 
really  curious.  It  sings  too  when  all  other  birds  but  the  Robin 
are  silent — in  the  depth  of  winter  when  the  stones  on  which  it 
sits  are  circled  and  rimed  with  ice.  No  bird,  perhaps,  is  more 
specially  adapted  to  a  very  special  home  and  very  peculiar 
habits  of  life.  The  same  species,  or  other  forms  so  closely 
similar  as  to  seem  mere  varieties,  are  found  in  almost  every 
country  of  the  world  where  there  are  clear  mountain  streams. 
And  yet  it  is  a  species  having  no  very  near  affinity  with  any 
other  bird,  and  it  constitutes  by  itself  a  separate  genus.  It  is 
therefore  a  species  of  great  interest  to  the  Naturalist,  and  raises 
some  of  the  most  perplexing  questions  connected  with  the 
"Origin  of  Species." 

In  1874  a  pair  of  these  birds  built  their  nest  at  Inverary,  in 
4 


50  THE  UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

a  hole  in  the  wall  of  a  small  tunnel  constructed  to  carry  a 
rivulet  under  the  walks  of  a  pleasure  ground.  The  season  was 
one  of  great  drought,  and  the  rivulet,  during  the  whole  time  of 
incubation  and  of  the  growth  of  the  young  in  the  nest,  was 
nearly  entirely  dry.  One  of  the  nestlings,  when  almost  fully 
fledged,  was  taken  out  by  the  hand  for  examination,  an  opera- 
tion which  so  alarmed  the  others  that  they  darted  out  of  the 
hole,  and  ran  and  fluttered  down  the  tunnel  towards  its  mouth. 
At  that  point  a  considerable  pool  of  water  had  survived  the 
drought,  and  lay  in  the  paths  of  the  fugitives.  They  did  not 
at  all  appear  to  seek  it ;  on  the  contrary,  their  flight  seemed  to 
be  as  aimless  as  that  of  any  other  fledgling  would  have  been  in 
the  same  predicament.  But  one  of  them  stumbled  into  the 
pool.  The  effect  was  most  curious.  When  the  young  bird 
touched  the  water,  there  was  a  moment  of  pause,  as  if  the 
creature  were  surprised.  Then  instantly  there  seemed  to  wake 
within  it  the  sense  of  its  hereditary  powers.  Down  it  dived 
with  all  the  facility  of  its  parents,  and  the  action  of  its  wings 
under  the  water  was  a  beautiful  exhibition  of  the  double  adap- 
tation to  progression  in  two  very  different  elements,  which  is 
peculiar  to  the  wings  of  most  of  the  diving  birds.  The  young 
Dipper  was  immediately  lost  to  sight  among  some  weeds,  and 
so  long  did  it  remain  under  water,  that  I  feared  it  must  be 
drowned.  But  in  due  time  it  reappeared  all  right,  and  being 
recaptured,  was  replaced  in  the  nest. 

Later  in  the  season,  on  a  secluded  lake  in  one  of  the  Hebri- 
des, I  observed  a  Dun-diver,  or  female  of  the  Red-breasted 
Merganser  (Mergus  Serrator),  with  her  brood  of  young  duck- 
lings. On  giving  chase  in  the  boat,  we  soon  found  that  the 
young,  although  not  above  a  fortnight  old,  had  such  extraordi- 
nary powers  of  swimming  and  diving,  that  it  was  almost  impos- 
sible to  capture  them.  The  distance  they  went  under  water, 
and  the  unexpected  places  in  which  they  emerged,  baffled  all 
our  efforts  for  a  considerable  time.  At  last  one  of  the  brood 
made  for  the  shore,  with  the  object  of  hiding  among  the  grass 
and  heather  which  fringed  the  margin  of  the  lake.  We  pur- 
sued it  as  closely  as  we  could,  but  when  the  little  bird  gained 
the  shore,  our  boat  was  still  about  twenty  yards  off.  Long 
drought  had  left  a  broad  margin  of  small  flat  stones  and  mud 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.       5! 

between  the  water  and  the  usual  bank.  I  saw  the  little  bird 
run  up  about  a  couple  of  yards  from  the  water,  and  then  sud- 
denly disappear.  Knowing  what  was  likely  to  be  enacted,  I 
kept  my  eye  fixed  on  the  spot ;  and  when  the  boat  was  run 
upon  the  beach,  I  proceeded  to  find  and  pick  up  the  chick. 
But  on  reaching  the  place  of  disappearance,  no  sign  of  the 
young  Merganser  was  to  be  seen.  The  closest  scrutiny,  with 
the  certain  knowledge  that  it  was  there,  failed  to  enable  me  to 
detect  it.  Proceeding  cautiously  forwards,  I  soon  became 
convinced  that  I  had  already  overshot  the  mark  ;  and,  on  turn- 
ing round,  it  was  only  to  see  the  chick  rise  like  an  apparition 
from  the  stones,  and  dashing  past  the  stranded  boat,  regain  the 
lake, — where,  having  now  recovered  its  wind,  it  instantly  dived 
and  disappeared.  The  tactical  skill  of  the  whole  of  this 
manoeuvre,  and  the  success  with  which  it  was  executed,  were 
greeted  with  loud  cheers  from  the  whole  party ;  and  our  admir- 
ation was  not  diminished  when  we  remembered  that  some  two 
weeks  before  that  time  the  little  performer  had  been  coiled  up 
inside  the  shell  of  an  egg,  and  that  about  a  month  before  it  was 
apparently  nothing  but  a  mass  of  albumen  and  of  fatty  oils. 

The  third  case  of  Animal  Instinct  which  I  shall  here  mention 
was  of  a  different  but  of  an  equally  common  kind.  In  walking 
along  the  side  of  a  river  with  overhanging  banks,  I  came  sud- 
denly on  a  common  Wild  Duck  (Anas  Boschus),  whose  young 
were  just  out.  Springing  from  under  the  bank,  she  fluttered 
out  into  the  stream  with  loud  cries  and  with  all  the  struggles  to 
escape  of  a  helplessly  wounded  bird.  To  simulate  the  effects 
of  suffering  from  disease,  or  from  strong  emotion,  or  from  wounds 
upon  the  human  frame,  is  a  common  necessity  of  the  actor's  art, 
and  it  is  not  often  really  well  done.  The  tricks  of  the  theatre 
are  seldom  natural,  and  it  is  not  without  reason  that "  theatrical  " 
has  become  a  proverbial  expression  for  false  and  artificial  rep- 
resentations of  the  realities  of  life.  It  was  therefore  with  no 
small  interest  that  on  this,  as  on  many  other  occasions,  I 
watched  the  perfection  of  an  art  which  Mrs.  Siddons  might 
have  envied.  The  labored  and  half-convulsive  flapping  of  the 
wings,  the  wriggling  of  the  body,  the  straining  of  the  neck,  and 
the  whole  expression  of  painful  and  abortive  effort,  were  really 
admirable.  When  her  struggles  had  carried  her  a  considerable 


52  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

distance,  and  she  saw  that  they  produced  no  effect  in  tempting 
us  to  follow,  she  made  resounding  flaps  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water,  to  secure  that  attention  to  herself  which  it  was  the  great 
object  of  the  manoeuvre  to  attract.  Then  rising  suddenly  in 
the  air,  she  made  a  great  circle  round  us,  and  returning  to  the 
spot,  renewed  her  endeavors  as  before.  It  was  not,  however, 
necessary  ;  for  the  separate  instinct  of  the  young  in  successful 
hiding  effectually  baffled  all  my  attempts  to  discover  them. 

I  pass  now  from  these  exhibitions  of  Instinct  in  the  class  of 
birds  to  one  which  I  observed  in  the  class  of  insects  during  the 
recent  winter,  November,  1882.  It  was  in  the  beautiful  Riviera, 
where  insect  life  continues  much  more  active  at  that  season  than 
it  can  be  anywhere  in  the  north  of  Europe.  But  even  there, 
although  Bees  are  busy  buring  the  greater  part  of  winter,  and 
some  of  our  own  Sylviadae  find  an  abundant  living  throughout 
the  season,  the  Order  of  the  Lepidoptera  are  generally  dormant. 
I  was  surprised,  therefore,  late  in  the  month  of  November,  to 
see  a  large  insect  of  this  Order  come  from  above  the  olive  trees 
overhead,  with  the  wild,  dashing  flight  of  the  larger  Moths. 
Attracted  apparently  by  a  sheltered  and  sunny  recess  in  which 
scarlet  Geraniums  and  Bignonias  were  in  full  flower,  the  Moth 
darted  downwards,  and  after  a  little  hovering,  settled  suddenly 
on  the  bare  ground  underneath  a  Geranium  plant.  I  then  saw 
that  it  was  a  very  handsome  species,  with  an  elaborate  pattern 
of  light  and  dark  chocolate  browns.  But  the  margins  of  the 
upper  or  anterior  wings,  which  were  deeply  waved  in  outline, 
had  a  lustrous  yellow  color,  like  a  brilliant  gleam  of  light.  In 
this  position  the  Moth  was  a  conspicuous  object.  After  resting 
for  a  few  seconds,  apparently  enjoying  the  Sun,  it  seemed  to 
notice  some  movement  which  gave  it  alarm.  It  then  turned 
slightly  round,  gave  a  violent  jerk  to  its  wings,  and  instantly 
became  invisible.  If  it  had  subsided  into  a  hole  in  the  ground, 
it  could  not  have  more  completely  disappeared.  As,  however, 
my  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  spot,  I  soon  observed  that  all  the 
interstices  among  the  little  clods  around  were  full  of  withered 
and  crumpled  leaves  of  a  deep  blackish  brown.  I  then  further 
noticed  that  the  spot  where  the  Moth  had  sat  was  apparently 
occupied  by  one  of  these,  and  it  then  flashed  upon  me  in  a  mo- 
ment that  I  had  before  me  one  of  the  great  wonders  and  mys- 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.       53 

teries  of  Nature.  There  are  some  forms  of  mimicry  which  are 
wholly  independent  of  any  action  on  the  part  of  the  animals 
themselves,  and  this  kind  of  mimicry  is  especially  common  in 
this  class  of  insects.  They  are  often  made  of  the  shape  and  of 
the  color  which  are  most  like  those  of  the  surrounding  objects 
in  their  habitat.  They  have  nothing  to  do  except  to  sit  still,  or 
perhaps  to  crouch.  But  there  are  other  forms  of  mimicry  in 
which  the  completeness  of  the  deception  depends  on  some  co- 
operation of  the  animal's  own  will.  This  was  one  of  these. 
The  splendid  margins  of  the  upper  wings,  with  the  peculiar  shape 
and  their  shining  color,  had  to  be  concealed  ;  and  so,  by  an  ef- 
fort which  evidently  required  the  exertion  of  special  muscles, 
these  margins  were  somehow  folded  down — reverted — covered 
up,  and  thus  hidden  out  of  sight.  The  remainder  of  the  wings, 
or  the  under  surfaces  which  were  now  made  uppermost,  were  so 
colored  and  so  crumpled  up  that  they  imitated  exactly  the  dried 
and  withered  leaves  around. 

And  now  I  tried  an  experiment  to  test  another  feature  in  the 
wonderful  instincts  which  are  involved  in  all  these  operations. 
That  feature  is  the  implicit  confidence  in  its  success  which  is 
innate  in  all  creatures  furnished  with  any  apparatus  of  conceal- 
ment. I  advanced  in  the  full  sunlight  close  up  to  the  Moth — 
so  close  that  I  could  see  the  prominent  "  beaded  eyes,"  with 
the  watchful  look — and  the  roughened  outlines  of  the  thorax, 
which  served  to  complete  the  illusion.  So  perfect  was  the  de- 
ception, that  I  really  could  not  feel  absolutely  confident  that  the 
black  spot  I  was  examining  was  what  I  believed  it  to  be.  Only 
one  little  circumstance  reassured  me.  There  was  a  small  hole  in 
the  outer  covering  through  which  a  mere  point  of  the  inner  brill- 
iant margin  could  be  seen  shining  like  a  star.  Certain  now  as 
to  the  identity  of  the  Moth,  I  advanced  still  nearer,  and  finally 
I  found  that  it  was  not  till  the  point  of  a  stick  was  used  to  touch 
and  shake  the  earth  on  which  it  lay  that  the  creature  could  be- 
lieve that  it  was  detected  and  in  danger.  Then  in  an  instant, 
by  movements  so  rapid  as  to  escape  the  power  of  vision,  the 
dried  and  crumpled  leaf  became  a  living  Moth,  with  energies 
of  flight  defying  all  attempts  at  capture. 

Let  us  now  look  at  the  questions  which  these  several  exhibi- 
tions of  Animal  Instinct  cannot  fail  to  suggest ;  and  first  let  us 


54  THE  UNITY  OF  NATURE. 

take  the  case  of  the  young  Dipper.  There  was  no  possibility 
of  imitation  here.  The  rivulet  beneath  the  nest,  even  if  it  had 
been  visible  to  the  nestlings,  had  been  dry  ever  since  they  had 
been  hatched.  The  river  into  which  it  ordinarily  flowed  was  out 
of  sight.  The  young  Dippers  never  could  have  seen  the  parent 
birds  either  swimming  or  diving.  This,  therefore,  is  one  of  the 
thousand  cases  which  have  driven  the  "  Experience  "  school  of 
philosophy  to  take  up  new  ground.  The  young  Dipper  here 
cannot  possibly  have  had  any  experience,  either  through  the 
process  of  incipient  effort,  or  through  the  process  of  sight  and 
imitation.  Nature  is  full  of  similar  cases.  In  face  of  them  it 
is  now  no  longer  denied  that  in  all  such  cases  "  Innate  Ideas  " 
do  exist,  and  that  "  Pre-established  Harmonies."  do  prevail  in 
Nature.  These  old  doctrines,  so  long  ridiculed  and  denied, 
have  come  to  be  admitted,  and  the  new  philosophy  is  satisfied 
with  attempts  to  explain  how  these  "  Ideas  "  came  to  be  innate, 
and  how  these  Harmonies  came  to  be  pre-established.  The  ex- 
planation is,  that  though  the  efficiency  of  experience  as  the 
cause  or  source  of  Instinct  must  be  given  up  as  regards  the  in- 
dividual, we  may  keep  it  as  regards  the  race  to  which  the  in- 
dividual belongs.  The  powers  of  swimming  and  diving,  and 
the  impulse  to  use  them  for  their  appropriate  purpose,  were  in- 
deed innate  in  the  Dipper  of  1874.  But  then  they  were  not  in- 
nate in  its  remote  progenitors.  They  were  acquired  by  those  pro- 
genitors through  gradual  effort — the  trying  leading  to  success 
and  the  success  again  leading  to  more  trying — both  together  lead- 
ing first  to  special  faculty,  then  to  confirmed  habit,  and  then,  by 
hereditary  transmission,  to  instinct  "organized  in  the  race." 
Well,  but  even  if  this  be  true,  was  not  the  disposition  of  the  pro- 
genitors to  make  the  first  efforts  in  the  direction  of  swimming  and 
diving,  and  were  not  the  Organs  which  enabled  them  to  do  so, 
as  purely  innate  as  the  perfected  instinct  and  the  perfected  Or- 
gans of  the  Dipper  of  to-day  ?  Did  there  ever  exist  in  any  for- 
mer period  of  the  world  what,  so  far  as  I  know,  does  certainly  not 
exist  now — any  animal  with  dispositions  to  enter  on  a  new  ca- 
reer, thought  of  and  imagined  for  the  first  time  by  itself,  uncon- 
nected with  any  Organs  already  fitted  for  and  appropriate  to  the 
purpose  ?  Even  the  highest  acquirements  of  the  Dog,  under 
highly  artificial  conditions  of  existence,  and  under  the  guidance 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.      55 

of  persistent  "  interferences  with  Nature,"  are  nothing  but  the 
special  education  of  original  instincts.  In  the  almost  human 
caution  of  the  old  and  well-trained  pointer  when  approaching 
game,  we  see  simply  a  development  of  the  habit  of  all  predatory 
animals  to  pause  when  close  upon  an  unseen  prey — a  pause  re- 
quisite to  verify  the  intimations  of  smell  by  the  sense  of  sight, 
and  also  for  preparing  the  final  spring.  It  is  true  that  Man 
"  selects,"  but  he  can  only  select  out  of  what  is  already  there. 
The  training  and  direction  which  he  gives  to  the  promptings  of 
Instinct  may  properly  be  described  as  the  result  of  experience  in 
the  animal  under  instruction  :  and  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that 
within  certain  limits  (which,  however,  are  after  all  very  narrow), 
these  results  do  tend  to  become  hereditary.  But  there  is  nothing 
really  analogous  in  Nature  to  the  artificial  processes  of  training 
to  which  Man  subjects  the  animals  which  are  capable  of  domesti- 
cation. Or  if  there  be  anything  analogous — if  animals  by  them- 
selves can  school  themselves  by  gradual  effort  into  the  develop- 
ment of  new  powers — if  the  habits  and  powers  which  are  now 
purely  innate  and  instinctive  were  once  less  innate  and  more  de- 
liberate— then  it  will  follow  that  the  earlier  faculties  of  animals 
have  been  the  higher,  and  that  the  later  faculties  are  the  lower 
in  the  scale  of  Intelligence.  This  is  hardly  consistent  with  the 
accepted  idea  of  Evolution, — which  is  founded  on  the  conception 
of  an  unfolding  or  development  from  the  lower  to  the  higher, 
from  the  simple  to  the  complex,  from  the  Instinctive  to  the  Ra- 
tional. My  own  belief  is,  that  whatever  of  truth  there  is  in  the 
doctrine  of  Evolution  is  to  be  found  in  this  conception,  which,  so 
far  as  we  can  see,  does  seem  to  be  embodied  in  the  history  of 
,  Organic  Life.  I  can  therefore  see  no  light  in  this  new  explana- 
tion to  account  for  the  existence  of  instincts  which  are  certainly 
antecedent  to  all  individual  experience — the  explanation,  name- 
ly, that  they  are  due  to  the  experience  of  progenitors  "  organ- 
ized in  the  race."  It  involves  assumptions  contrary  to  the  anal- 
ogies of  Nature,  and  at  variance  with  the  fundamental  facts, 
which  are  the  best,  and  indeed  the  only,  basis  of  the  theory  of 
Evolution.  There  is  no  probability — there  is  hardly  any  plausi- 
bility— in  the  supposition  that  experience  has  had,  in  past  times, 
some  connection  with  Instinct  which  it  has  ceased  to  have  in 
the  present  day.  The  Uniformity  of  Nature  has,  indeed,  often 


56  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

been  asserted  in  a  sense  in  which  it  is  not  true,  and  used  in 
support  of  arguments  which  it  will  not  sustain.  All  things  have 
certainly  not  continued  as  they  are  since  the  Beginning.  There 
was  a  time  when  Animal  Life,  and  with  it  Animal  Instincts,  be- 
gan to  be.  But  we  have  no  reason  whatever  to  suppose  that  the 
nature  of  Instinct  then  or  since  has  ever  been  different  from  its 
nature  now.  On  the  contrary,  as  we  have  in  existing  Nature  ex- 
amples of  it  in  infinite  variety,  from  the  very  lowest  to  the  very 
highest  forms  of  Organization,  and  as  the  same  phenomena  are 
everywhere  repeated,  we  have  the  best  reason  to  conclude  that, 
in  the  past,  Animal  Instinct  has  ever  been  what  we  now  see  it  to 
be — congenital,  innate,  and  wholly  independent  of  experience. 
And  indeed,  when  we  come  to  think  about  it,  we  shall  find 
that  the  theory  of  Experience  assumes  the  pre-existence  of  the 
very  powers  for  which  it  professes  to  account.  The  very 
lowest  of  the  faculties  by  which  experience  is  acquired  is  the 
faculty  of  imitation.  But  the  desire  to  imitate  must  be  as  in- 
stinctive as  the  Organs  are  hereditary  by  which  imitation  is 
effected.  Then  follow  in  their  order  all  the  higher  faculties  by 
which  the  lessons  of  experience  are  put  together — so  that  what 
has  been  in  the  past  is  made  the  basis  of  anticipation  as  to 
what  will  be  in  the  future.  This  is  the  essential  process  by 
which  experience  is  acquired,  and  every  step  in  that  process 
assumes  the  pre-existence  of  mental  tendencies  and  of  mental 
powers  which  are  purely  instinctive  and  innate.  To  account 
for  Instinct  by  experience  is  nothing  but  an  Iris^  bull.  It  de- 
nies the  existence  of  things  which  are  nevertheless  assumed  in 
the  very  terms  of  the  denial :  it  elevates  into  a  cause  that  which 
must  in  its  nature  be  a  consequence,  and  a  consequence,  too, 
of  the  very  cause  which  is  denied.  Congenital  instincts,  and 
hereditary  powers,  and  pre-established  harmonies,  are  the  ori- 
gin of  all  experience,  and  without  them  no  one  step  in  experience 
could  ever  be  gained.  The  questions  raised  when  a  young 
Dipper,  which  had  never  before  even  seen  water,  dives  and 
swims  with  perfect  ease,  are  questions  which  the  theory  of  or- 
ganized experience  does  not  even  tend  to  solve  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  is  a  theory  which  leaves  those  questions  precisely 
where  they  were,  except  in  so  far  as  it  may  tend  to  obscure 
them  by  obvious  confusions  of  thought. 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.      57 

Passing  now  from  explanations  which  explain  nothing,  is 
there  any  light  in  the  theory  that  animals  are  "  Automata  ?  " 
Was  the  young  Dipper  a  diving  machine  ?  It  seems  to  me 
that  there  is  at  least  a  glimmer  shining  through  this  idea — a 
glimmer  as  of  a  real  light  struggling  through  a  thick  fog.  The 
fog  arises  out  of  the  mists  of  language — the  confounding  and 
confusing  of  meanings  literal  with  meanings  metaphorical — the 
mistaking  of  partial  for  complete  analogies.  "  Machine "  is 
the  word  by  which  we  designate  those  combinations  of  mechan- 
ical force  which  are  contrived  and  put  together  by  Man  to  do 
certain  things.  One  essential  characteristic  of  them  is  that 
they  belong  to  the  world  of  the  not-living ;  they  are  destitute 
of  that  which  we  know  as  Life,  and  of  all  the  attributes  by 
which  it  is  distinguished.  Machines  have  no  sensibility.  When 
we  say  of  anything  that  it  has  been  done  by  a  machine,  we 
mean  that  it  has  been  done  by  something  which  is  not  alive. 
In  this  literal  signification  it  is  therefore  pure  nonsense  to  say 
that  anything  living  is  a  machine.  It  is  simply  a  misapplica 
tion  of  language — to  the  extent  of  calling  one  thing  by  the 
name  of  another  thing,  and  that  other  so  different  as  to  be  its 
opposite  or  contradictory. 

There  can  be  no  reasoning,  no  clearing  up  of  truth,  unless 
we  keep  definite  words  for  definite  ideas.  Or  if  the  idea  to 
which  a  given  word  has  been  appropriated  be  a  complex  idea, 
and  we  desire  to  deal  with  one  element  on./  of  the  meaning, 
separated  from  the  rest,  then,  indeed,  we  may  continue  to  use 
the  word  for  this  selected  portion  of  its  meaning,  provided  al- 
ways that  we  bear  in  mind  what  it  is  that  we  are  doing.  This 
may  be  and  often  is  a  necessary  operation,  for  language  is  not 
rich  enough  to  furnish  separate  words  for  all  the  complex  ele- 
ments which  enter  into  ideas  apparently  very  simple  ;  and  so 
of  this  word,  machine,  there  is  an  element  in  its  meaning  which 
is  always  very  important,  which  in  common  language  is  often 
predominant,  and  which  we  may  legitimately  choose  to  make 
exclusive  of  every  other.  This  essential  element  in  our  idea 
of  a  machine  is  that  its  powers,  whatever  they  may  be,  are  de- 
rived, and  not  original.  There  may  be  great  knowledge  in  the 
work  done  by  a  machine,  but  the  knowledge  is  not  in  it.  There 
may  be  great  skill,  but  the  skill  is  not  in  it ;  great  foresight,  but 


58  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

the  foresight  is  not  in  it ;  in  short,  great  exhibition  of  all  the 
powers  of  Mind,  but  the  mind  is  not  in  the  machine  itself. 
Whatever  it  does,  is  done  in  virtue  of  its  construction,  which 
construction  is  due  to  a  Mind  which  has  designed  it  for  the  ex- 
hibition of  certain  powers  and  the  performance  of  certain  func- 
tions. These  may  be  very  simple,  or  they  may  be  very  compli- 
cated, but  whether  simple  or  complicated,  the  whole  play  of  its 
operations  is  limited  and  measured  by  the  intentions  of  its 
constructor.  If  that  constructor  be  himself  limited  either  in 
opportunity,  or  knowledge,  or  in  power,  there  will  be  a  corre- 
sponding limitation  in  the  things  which  he  invents  and  makes. 
Accordingly,  in  regard  to  Man,  he  cannot  make  a  machine 
which  has  any  of  the  gifts  and  the  powers  of  Life.  He  can 
construct  nothing  which  has  sensibility  or  consciousness,  or  any 
other  of  even  the  lowest  attributes  of  living  creatures.  And 
this  absolute  destitution  of  even  apparent  originality  in  a  ma- 
chine— this  entire  absence  of  any  share  of  consciousness,  or  of 
sensibility,  or  of  Will — is  one  part  of  our  very  conception  of  it. 
But  that  other  part  of  our  conception  of  a  machine,  which  con- 
sists in  its  relation  to  a  contriver  and  constructor,,  is  equally 
essential,  and  may,  if  we  choose,  be  separated  from  the  rest, 
and  may  be  taken  as  representative  of  the  whole.  If,  then, 
there  be  any  Agency  in  Nature,  or  outside  of  it,  which  can  con- 
trive and  build  up  structures  endowed  with  the  gifts  of  Life, 
structures  which  shall  not  only  digest,  but  which  shall  also  feel 
and  see,  which  shall  be  sensible  of  enjoyment  from  things  con- 
ducive to  their  welfare,  and  of  alarm  on  account  of  things 
which  are  dangerous  to  the  same — then  such  structures  have 
the  same  relation  to  that  Agency  which  machines  have  to  Man, 
and  in  this  aspect  it  may  be  a  legitimate  figure  of  speech  to 
call  them  living  machines.  What  these  machines  do  is  differ- 
ent in  kind  from  the  things  which  human  machines  do  ;  but  both 
are  alike  in  this — that  whatever  they  do  is  done  in  virtue  of 
their  construction,  and  of  the  powers  which  have  been  given  to 
them  by  the  Mind  which  made  them. 

Applying  now  this  idea  of  a  machine  to  the  phenomena  exhib- 
ited by  the  young  Dipper,  its  complete  applicability  cannot  be 
denied.  In  the  first  place,  the  young  Dipper  had  a  physical 
structure  adapted  to  diving.  Its  feathers  were  of  a  texture  to 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.      59 

throw  off  water,  and  the  shower  of  pearly  drops  which  ran  off 
it,  when  it  emerged  from  its  first  plunge,  showed  in  a  moment 
how  different  it  was  from  other  fledglings  in  its  imperviousness 
to  wet.  Water  appeared  to  be  its  "  native  element "  precisely 
in  the  same  sense  in  which  it  is  said  to  be  the  native  element 
of  a  ship  which  has  been  built  high  in  air,  and  of  the  not  very 
watery  materials  of  wood  and  iron.  Water  which  it  had  never 
seen  before,  seemed  to  be  the  native  element  of  the  little  bird 
in  this  sense,  that  it  was  so  constructed  as  to  be  and  to  feel  at 
home  in  it  at  once.  Its  "lines"  had  been  laid  down  for 
progression  both  in  air  and  water.  It  was  launched  with  a 
motive-power  complete  within  itself,  and  with  promptings  suffi- 
cient for  the  driving  of  its  own  machinery.  For  the  physical 
adaptation  was  obviously  united  with  mental  powers  and  qual- 
ities which  partook  of  the  same  preadjusted  harmony.  These 
were  as  congenital  as  the  texture  of  its  feathers  or  the  structure 
of  its  wing.  Its  terror  arose  on  seeing  the  proper  objects  of 
fear,  although  they  had  never  been  seen  before,  and  no  experi- 
ence of  injury  had  arisen.  This  terror  prompted  it  to  the 
proper  methods  of  escape,  and  the  knowledge  how  to  use  its 
faculties  for  this  object  was  as  intuitive  as  the  apparatus  for 
effecting  it  was  hereditary.  In  this  sense  the  Dipper  was  a 
living,  breathing,  seeing,  fearing,  and  diving  machine — ready 
made  for  all  these  purposes  from  the  nest — as  some  other  birds 
are  even  from  their  first  exclusion  from  the  egg. 

The  case  of  the  young  Merganser  is  still  more  curious  and 
instructive  with  reference  to  the  same  questions.  The  young 
of  all  the  Anatida  are  born,  like  the  gallinaceous  birds,  not 
naked  or  blind,  as  most  others  are,  but  completely  equipped 
with  a  feathery  down,  and  able  to  swim  or  dive  as  soon  as  they 
see  the  light.  Moreover,  the  young  of  the  Merganser  have 
the  benefit  of  seeing  from  the  first  the  parent  bird  performing 
these  operations,  so  that  imitation  may  have  some  part  in 
developing  the  perfection  with  which  they  are  executed  by  the 
young.  But  the  particular  manoeuvre  resorted  to  by  the  young 
bird  which  baffled  our  pursuit  was  a  manoeuvre  in  which  it 
could  have  had  no  instruction  from  example — the  manoeuvre, 
namely,  which  consists  in  hiding  not  under  any  cover  but  by 
remaining  perfectly  motionless  on  the  ground.  This  is  a 


60  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

method  of  escape  which  cannot  be  resorted  to  successfully  ex- 
cept by  birds  whose  color  is  adapted  to  the  purpose  by  a  close 
assimilation  with  the  coloring  of  surrounding  objects.    The  old 
bird  would  not  have  been  concealed  on  the  same  ground,  and 
would  never  itself  resort  to  the  same  method  of  escape.     The 
young,   therefore,  cannot  have  been  instructed  in   it  by  the 
method  of  example.     But  the  small  size  of  the  chick,  together 
with  its  obscure  and  curiously  mottled  coloring,  are  specially 
adapted  to  this  mode  of  concealment.     The  young  of  all  birds 
which  breed  upon  the  ground  are  provided  with  a  garment  in 
such  perfect  harmony  with  surrounding  effects  of  light  as  to 
render  this  manoeuvre  easy.     It  depends,  however,  wholly  for 
its  success  upon  absolute  stillness.     The  slightest  motion  at 
once  attracts  the  eye  of  any  enemy  which  is  searching  for  the 
young.     And  this  absolute  stillness  must  be  preserved  amidst 
all  the  emotions  of  fear  and  terror  which  the  close  approach  of 
the  object  of  alarm  must,  and  obviously  does  inspire.     Whence 
comes  this  splendid,  even  if  it  be  unconscious  faith  in  the 
sufficiency  of  a  defence  which  it  must  require  such  nerve  and 
strength  of  Will  to  practise?     No  movement,  not  even   the 
slightest,  though  the  enemy  should  seem  about  to  trample  on 
it ;  such  is  the  terrible  requirement  of  Nature — and  by  the 
child  of  Nature  implicitly  obeyed !     Here  again,  beyond  all 
question,  we  have  an  instinct  as  much  born  with  the  creature 
as  the  harmonious  tinting  of  its  plumage — the  external  furnish- 
ing being  inseparably  united  with  the  internal  furnishing  of 
Mind  which  enables  the  little  creature  in  very  truth  to  "  walk 
by  faith  and  not  by  sight."     Is  this  automatonism  ?     Is  this 
machinery  ?     Yes,  undoubtedly  in  the  sense  explained  before — 
that  the  instinct  has  been  given  to  the  bird  in  precisely  the 
same  sense  in  which  its  structure  has  been  given  to  it — so  that 
anterior  to  all  experience,  and  without  the  aid  of  instruction  or 
of  example,  it  is  inspired  to  act  in  this  manner  on  the  appro- 
priate occasion  arising. 

Then,  in  the  case  of  the  Wild  Duck,  we  rise  to  a  yet  higher 
form  of  Instinct,  and  to  more  complicated  adaptations  of  con- 
genital powers  to  the  contingencies  of  the  external  world.  It 
is  not  really  conceivable  that  Wild  Ducks  have  commonly  many 
opportunities  of  studying  each  other's  action  when  rendered 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.      6 1 

helpless  by  wounds.  Nor  is  it  conceivable  that  such  study  can 
have  been  deliberately  made  even  when  opportunities  do  occur. 
When  one  out  of  a  flock  is  wounded  all  the  others  make  haste 
to  escape,  and  it  is  certain  that  this  trick  of  imitated  helpless- 
ness is  practised  by  individual  birds  which  can  never  have  had 
any  such  opportunities  at  all.  Moreover,  there  is  one  very 
remarkable  circumstance  connected  with  this  instinct,  which 
marks  how  much  of  knowledge  and  of  reasoning  is  implicitly 
contained  within  it.  As  against  Man  the  manoeuvre  is  not  only 
useless  but  it  is  injurious.  When  a  man  sees  a  bird  resorting 
to  this  imitation,  he  may  be  deceived  for  a  moment,  as  I  have 
myself  been  ;  but  his  knowledge  and  experience  and  his  rea- 
soning faculty  soon  tell  him  from  a  combination  of  circum- 
stances that  it  is  merely  the  usual  deception.  To  Man,  there- 
fore, it  has  the  opposite  effect  of  revealing  the  proximity  of  the 
young  brood,  which  would  not  otherwise  be  known.  I  have 
repeatedly  been  led  by  it  to  the  discovery  of  the  chicks.  Now, 
the  most  curious  fact  of  all  is  that  this  distinction  between  Man 
and  other  predacious  animals  is  recognized  and  reflected  in 
the  instinct  of  birds.  The  manoeuvre  of  counterfeiting  help- 
lessness is  very  rarely  resorted  to  except  when  a  Dog  is  pres- 
ent.* Dogs  are  almost  uniformly  deceived  by  it.  They  never 
can  resist  the  temptation  presented  by  a  bird  which  flutters  ap- 
parently helpless  just  in  front  of  their  nose.  It  is,  therefor0, 
almost  always  successful  in  drawing  them  off,  and  so  rescuing 
the  young  from  danger.  But  it  is  the  sense  of  smell,  not  the 
sense  of  sight,  which  makes  Dogs  so  specially  dangerous.  The 
instinct  which  has  been  given  to  birds  seems  to  cover  and  in- 
clude the  knowledge  that  as  the  sense  of  smell  does  not  exist 
to  the  like  effect  in  Man,  the  mere  concealment  of  the  young 
from  sight  is  ordinarily,  as  regards  him,  sufficient  for  their  pro- 
tection :  and  yet  I  have  on  one  occasion  seen  the  trick  resorted 
to  when  Man  only  was  the  source  of  danger,  and  this  by  a  spe- 
cies of  bird  which  does  not  habitually  practise  it,  and  which 
can  have  had  neither  individual  nor  ancestral  experience.  This 
was  the  case  of  a  Blackcap  (Sylvia  Atricapilld),  which  fell  to 

*  I  have  since  seen  it  resorted  to  by  the  American  Merganser,  on  the  Restigouche 
River,  in  Canada,  when  the  object  of  alarm  was  a  barge  u  poled  "  or  "  punted  "  down 
the  stream.  It  evidently  gave  the  impression  of  an  enemy  chasing  the  young  on 
the  water. 


62  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

the  ground  from  a  bush  as  if  wounded,  in  order  to  distract  at- 
tention from  its  nest. 

If  now  we  examine,  in  the  light  of  our  own  Reason,  all  the 
elements  of  knowledge  or  of  intellectual  perception  upon  which 
the  instinct  of  the  Wild  Duck  is  founded,  and  all  of  which,  as 
existing  somewhere,  it  undoubtedly  reflects,  we  shall  soon  see 
how  various  and  extensive  these  elements  of  knowledge  are. 
First,  there  is  the  knowledge  that  the  cause  of  the  alarm  is  a 
carnivorous  animal.  On  this  fundamental  point  no  creature  is 
ever  deceived.  The  youngest  chick  knows  a  Hawk,  and  the 
dreadful  form  fills  it  with  instant  terror.  Next,  there  is  the 
knowledge  that  Dogs  and  other  carnivorous  quadrupeds  have 
the  sense  of  smell,  as  an  additional  element  of  danger  to  the 
creatures  on  which  they  prey.  Next,  there  is  the  knowledge 
that  the  Dog,  not  being  itself  a  flying  animal,  has  sense  enough 
not  to  attempt  the  pursuit  of  prey  which  can  avail  itself  of  this 
sure  and  easy  method  of  escape.  Next,  there  is  the  conclusion 
from  all  this  knowledge,  that  if  the  Dog  is  to  be  induced  to 
chase,  it  must  be  led  to  suppose  that  the  power  of  flight  has 
been  somehow  lost.  And  then  there  is  the  further  conclusion, 
that  this  can  only  be  done  by  such  an  accurate  imitation  of  a 
disabled  bird  as  shall  deceive  the  enemy  into  a  belief  in  the 
possibility  of  capture.  And  lastly,  there  are  all  the  powers  of 
memory  and  the  qualities  of  imagination  which  enable  good 
acting  to  be  performed.  All  this  reasoning  and  all  this  knowl- 
edge is  certainly  involved  in  the  action  of  the  bird-mother,  just 
as  certainly  as  reasoning  and  knowledge  of  a  much  profounder 
kind  is  involved  in  the  structure  or  adjustment  of  the  Organic 
machinery  by  which  and  through  which  the  action  is  itself  per- 
formed. 

In  the  case  of  the  Moth  upon  the  Riviera,  we  have  the  same 
general  principles  involved  and  rendered  in  some  repects  more 
remarkable,  in  proportion  to  the  much  lower  Intelligence  which 
belongs  to  the  Class  of  insects  as  compared  with  the  Class  of 
birds.  But  the  law  is  the  same  in  both  cases — the  law,  namely, 
of  a  close  and  perfect  correspondence  between  the  physical 
machinery  for  any  given  purpose,  and  the  psychological  endow- 
ments which  enable  that  machinery  to  be  properly  applied.  It 
surprised  me  to  see  this  Moth  lighting  on  the  bare  ground  un- 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.       63 

derneath  the  leaves  and  flowers  which  seemed  to  attract  its 
attention.  But  if  this  choice  and  selection  had  not  been  made, 
and  if  it  were  not  habitually  made  by  this  species  of  Moth,  its 
apparatus  of  disguise  would  have  been  useless  for  the  intended 
purpose.  The  Moth  might,  indeed,  in  any  situation  exert  the 
muscles  which  reverted  the  wing,  and  which  degraded  the 
whole  appearance  of  its  body  into  the  semblance  of  dead  and 
rotten  vegetation.  But  then,  in  every  situation  except  that 
actually  chosen,  such  an  object  would  not  have  evaded  notice, 
but  on  the  contrary  would  have  attracted  it.  And  therefore  it 
was  that  the  Moth  passed  by  all  the  beautiful  leaves  and  flow- 
ers, and  settled  rather  on  a  clod.  But  this  u  therefore,"  with 
all  the  train  of  reasoning  which  the  choice  involved,  we  cannot 
suppose  to  have  existed  consciously  in  the  Moth.  Yet  that  it 
existed  somewhere  is  as  certain  as  the  existence  of  the  Organic 
structure  by  which  the  disguise  was  rendered  possible,  or  the 
existence  of  the  Instinct  in  the  creature,  -which  is  at  once  the 
index  and  the  consummation  of  the  whole  arrangement. 

There  is  unquestionably  a  sense,  and  a  very  important  sense, 
in  which  all  these  wonderful  operations  of  Instinct  are  "  auto- 
matic." The  intimate  knowledge  of  physical  and  of  physiologi- 
cal laws — the  knowledge  even  of  the  mental  qualities  and  dispo- 
sitions of  other  animals — and  the  processes  of  reasoning  by 
which  advantage  is  taken  of  these, — this  knowledge  and  this 
reasoning  cannot,  without  manifest  absurdity,  be  attributed  to 
the  birds  themselves.  This  is  admitted  at  least  as  regards  the 
birds  of  the  present  day.  But  surely  the  absurdity  is  quite  as 
great  if  this  knowledge  and  reasoning,  or  any  part  of  it,  be  at- 
tributed to  birds  of  a  former  generation.  In  the  past  history 
of  the  species  there  may  have  been  change — there  may  have 
been  development.  But  there  is  not  the  smallest  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  the  progenitors  of  any  bird  or  of  any  beast,  how- 
ever different  in  form,  have  ever  founded  on  deliberate  effort 
the  instincts  of  their  descendants.  All  the  knowledge  and  all 
the  resources  of  Mind  which  is  involved  in  these  instincts  is  a 
reflection  of  some  Agency  which  is  outside  the  creatures  which 
exhibit  them.  In  this  respect  it  may  be  said  with  truth  that 
they  are  machines.  But  then  they  are  machines  with  this  pecul- 
iarity, that  they  not  only  reflect,  but  also  in  various  measures 


64  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

and  degrees  partake  of  the  attributes  of  Mind.  It  is  always  by 
some  one  or  other  of  these  attributes  that  they  are  guided — by 
fear,  or  by  desire,  or  by  affection,  or  by  mental  impulses  which 
go  straight  to  the  results  of  reasoning  without  its  processes. 
That  all  these  mental  attributes  are  connected  with  a  physical 
Organism  which  is  constructed  on  mechanical  principles,  is  not 
a  matter  of  speculation.  It  is  an  obvious  and  acknowledged 
fact.  The  question  is  not  whether,  in  this  sense,  animals  are 
machines,  but  whether  the  work  which  has  been  assigned  to 
them  does  or  does  not  partake  in  various  measures  and  degrees 
of  the  various  qualities  which  we  recognize  in  ourselves  as  the 
qualities  of  sensation,  of  consciousness,  and  of  Will. 

On  this  matter  it  seems  clear  to  me  that  in  some  recent  dis- 
cussions the  doctrine  of  Descartes  has  been  seriously  miscon- 
ceived. It  is  true  that  a  passage  has  been  quoted*  as  repre- 
senting the  view  of  "orthodox  Cartesians,"  in  which  it  is  as- 
serted that  animals  "  eat  without  pleasure  and  cry  without  pain," 
and  that  they  "desire"  nothing  as  well  as  "know"  nothing. 
But  this  passage  is  quoted,  not  from  Descartes,  but  from  Male- 
branche.  Malebranche  was  a  great  man ;  but  on  this  subject 
he  was  the  disciple  and  not  the  master ;  and  it  seems  almost  a 
law  that  no  utterance  of  original  genius  can  long  escape  the 
fate  of  being  travestied  and  turned  to  nonsense  by  those  who 
take  it  up  at  second  hand.  Descartes'  letter  to  Moore  of  the 
5th  February,.  1649,  proves  conclusively  that  he  fully  recognized 
in  the  lower  animals  the  existence  of  all  the  affections  of  Mind 
except  "  Thought "  (la  Pense'e),  or  Reason  properly  so  called. 
He  ascribes  to  them  the  mental  emotions  of  fear,  of  anger,  and 
of  desire,' as  well  as  all  the  sensations  of  pleasure  and  of  pain. 
What  he  means  by  Thought  is  clearly  indicated  in  the  passage 
in  which  he  points  to  Language  as  the  peculiar  product  and  the 
sole  index  of  Thought — Language,  of  course,  taken  in  its 
broadest  sense,  signifying  any  system  of  signs  by  which  general 
or  abstract  ideas  are  expressed  and  communicated.  This,  as 
Descartes  truly  says,  is  never  wanting  even  in  the  lowest  of 
men,  and  is  never  present  in  the  highest  of  the  brutes.  But  he 
distinctly  says  that  the  lower  animals,  having  the  same  Organs 
of  sight,  of  hearing,  of  taste,  etc.,  with  ourselves,  have  also  the 

*  By  Professor  Huxley. 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.      65 

same  sensations,  as  well  as  the  same  affections  of  anger,  of  fear, 
and  of  desire — affections  which,  being  mental,  he  ascribes  to  a 
lower  kind  or  class  of  Soul,  an  "  ame  corporelle."  Descartes, 
therefore,  was  not  guilty  of  confounding  the  two  elements  of 
meaning  which  are  involved  in  the  word  machine — that  element 
which  attaches  to  all  machines  made  by  Man  as  consisting  of 
dead  non-sentient  matter — and  that  other  element  of  meaning 
which  may  be  legitimately  attached  to  structures  which  have 
been  made,  not  to  simulate,  but  really  to  possess  all  the  essen- 
tial properties  of  Life.  "  II  faut  pourtant  remarquer,"  says 
Descartes,  emphatically ;  "  que  je  parle  de  la  pensee,  non  de  la 
vie,  ou  de  sentiment"* 

The  experiments  quoted  by  Professor  Huxley  and  by  other 
physiologists,  on  the  phenomena  of  vivisection,  and  especially 
on  what  is  called  the  "  reflex  action  "  of  living  nerve-tissues,  can- 
not alter  or  modify  the  general  conclusions  which  have  long 
been  reached  on  the  unquestionable  connection  between  all  the 
functions  of  Life  and  the  mechanism  of  the  body.  The  ques- 
tion remains  whether  the  ascertainment  of  this  connection  in  its 
details  can  alter  our  conceptions  of  what  Life  and  sensation 
are.  No  light  is  thrown  on  this  question  by  cutting  out  from  an 
Organism  certain  parts  of  the  machinery  which  are  known  to  be 
the  seat  of  consciousness  and  of  Will,  and  then  finding  that  the 
animal  is  still  capable  of  certain  movements  which  are  usually 
indicative  of  sensation  and  of  purpose.  Surely  the  reasoning 
is  bad  which  argues  that  because  a  given  movement  goes  on  af- 
ter the  animal  has  been  mutilated,  this  movement  must  there- 
fore continue  to  possess  all  the  same  elements  of  character 
which  accompanied  it  when  the  animal  was  complete.  And  not 
only  is  the  reasoning  bad,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  conclusion 
has  been  proved  to  be  erroneous.  Farther  investigations  have 
shown  that  when  the  cerebral  hemispheres  have  been  removed, 
the  "  reflex  action  "  in  a  frog's  leg  acquires  a  new  character. 
It  becomes  a  mere  result  of  Physical  Causation,  and  is  conse- 
quently as  certain  and  inevitable  as  the  action  of  a  coiled 
spring.  Accordingly  it  can  be  predicted  and  foreseen  with  cer- 
tainty. In  short,  the  mental  element  has  been  eliminated 
along  with  that  part  of  the  machinery  which  is  the  Organ  of  con- 
*  CEuyres  de  Descartes  (Cousin),  vol.  x.  p.  205  et  seq. 

5 

i 


66  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

sciousness  and  Will.  But  when  that  part  of  the  machinery  re- 
mains untouched,  then  "  reflex  action  "  loses  its  character  of 
necessity  as  the  result  of  mere  mechanical  causation.  It  can- 
not be  predicted  with  certainty,  because  although  the  "  stimu- 
lus "  may  be  the  same,  and  the  animal  impulse  may  be  the  same, 
there  is  a  controlling  apparatus  to  which  has  been  given  the  free 
and  incalculable  power  of  resisting  both  stimulus  and  impulse. 
Both  parts  of  the  apparatus  are  equally  machinery.  But  the 
one  has  a  mental  function,  and  the  other  has  a  function  purely 
physical.* 

The  character  of  purpose  in  one  sense  or  another  belongs  to 
all  Organic  movements  whatever — to  those  which  are  indepen- 
dent of  conscious  sensation,  or  of  the  Will,  as  well  as  to  those 
which  are  voluntary  and  intentional.  The  only  difference  be- 
tween the  two  classes  of  movement  is  that  in  the  case  of  one  of 
them  the  purpose  is  wholly  outside  the  animal,  and  that  in  the 
case  of  the  other  class  of  movement  the  animal  has  faculties 
which  make  it,  however  indirectly,  a  conscious  participant  or 
agent  in  the  purpose,  or  in  some  part  of  the  purpose,  to  be  sub- 
served. The  action  of  the  heart  in  animals  is  as  certainly  "  pur- 
posive "  in  its  character  as  the  act  of  eating  and  deglutition.  In 
the  one  the  animal  is  wholly  passive — has  no  sensation,  no  con- 
sciousness, however  dim.  In  the  other  movement  the  animal  is 
an  active  agent,  is  impelled  to  it  by  desires  which  are  in  the  na- 
ture of  mental  affections,  and  receives  from  it  the  appropriate 
pleasure  which  belongs  to  consciousness  and  sensation.  These 
powers  themselves,  however,  depend,  each  of  them,  on  certain 
bits  and  parts  of  the  animal  mechanism  ;  and  if  these  parts  can 
be  separately  injured  or  destroyed,  it  is  intelligible  enough  that 
consciousness  and  sensation  may  be  severed  for  a  time  from  the 
movements  which  they  ordinarily  accompany  and  direct.  The 
success  of  such  an  experiment  may  teach  us  much  on  the  details 
of  a  general  truth  which  has  long  been  known — that  conscious 
sensation  is,  so  far  as  our  experience  goes,  inseparably  depen- 
dent upon  the  mechanism  of  an  Organic  structure.  But  it  can- 
not in  the  slightest  degree  change  or  modify  our  conception  of 
what  conscious  sensation  in  itself  is.  It  is  mechanical  exactly 
in  the  same  sense  in  which  we  have  long  known  it  to  be  so — 

*  Foster's  "  Text- Book  of  Physiology,"  p.  557. 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MINE)  OF  MAN.      67 

that  is  to  say,  it  is  the  result  of  Life  working  in  and  through  a 
structure  which  has  been  made  to  exhibit  and  embody  certain 
special  gifts  and  powers. 

Considering  now  that  the  body  of  Man  is  one  in  structure 
with  the  body  of  all  vertebrate  animals — considering  that,  as  we 
rise  from  the  lowest  of  these  to  him  who  is  the  highest,  we  see 
this  same  structure  elaborated  into  closer  and  closer  likeness, 
until  every  part  corresponds,  bone  to  bone,  tissue  to  tissue,  or- 
gan to  organ — I  cannot  doubt  that  Man  is  a  machine,  precisely 
in  the  same  sense  in  which  animals  are  machines.  If  it  is  no  con- 
tradiction in  terms  to  speak  of  a  machine  which  has  been  made  to 
feel  and  to  see,  and  to  hear  and  to  desire,  neither  need  there  be 
any  contradiction  in  terms  in  speaking  of  a  machine  which  has 
been  made  to  think,  and  to  reflect,  and  to  reason.  These  are,  in- 
deed, powers  so  much  higher  than  the  others  that  they  may  be 
considered  as  different  in  kind.  But  this  difference,  however 
great  it  may  be,  whether  we  look  at  it  in  its  practical  results,  or 
as  a  question  of  classification,  is  certainly  not  a  difference  which 
throws  any  doubt  upon  the  fact  that  all  these  higher  powers  are, 
equally  with  the  lowest,  dependent  in  this  world  on  special  ar- 
rangements in  a  material  Organism.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  very 
fact  of  the  question  being  raised  whether  man  can  be  called 
a  machine  in  the  same  sense  as  that  n  which  alone  the  lower 
animals  can  properly  be  so  described,  is  a  proof  that  the  ques- 
tioner believes  the  lower  animals  to  be  machines  in  a  sense  in 
which  it  is  not  true.  Such  manifestations  of  mental  attributes 
as  they  display  are  the  true  and  veritable  index  of  powers  which 
are  really  by  them  possessed  and  enjoyed.  The  notion  that  be- 
cause these  powers  depend  on  an  Organic  Apparatus,  they  are 
therefore  not  what  they  seem  to  be,  is  a  mere  confusion  of 
thought.  On  the  other  hand,  when  this  comes  to  be  thoroughly 
understood,  the  notion  that  Man's  peculiar  powers  are  lowered 
and  dishonored  when  they  are  conceived  to  stand  in  any  similar 
relation  to  the  body,  must  be  equally  abandoned,  as  partaking  of 
the  same  fallacy.  If  the  sensation  of  pleasure  and  of  pain,  and 
the  more  purely  mental  manifestations  of  fear  and  of  affection, 
have  in  the  lower  animals  some  inseparable  connection  with  an 
Organic  Apparatus,  I  do  not  see  why  we  should  be  jealous  of 
admitting  that  the  still  higher  powers  of  self-consciousness  and 


68  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

Reason  have  in  Man  a  similar  connection  with  the  same  kind  of 
mechanism.  The  nature  of  this  connection  in  itself  is  equally 
mysterious,  and,  indeed,  inconceivable  in  either  case.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  we  have  precisely  the  same  evidence  as  to  both. 
If  painful  and  pleasurable  emotions  can  be  destroyed  by  the  cut- 
ting of  a  nerve,  so  also  can  the  powers  of  Memory  and  of  Rea- 
son be  destroyed  by  any  injury  or  disease  which  affects  some 
bits  of  the  substance  of  the  brain. 

If,  however,  the  fact  of  this  mysterious  connection  be  so  in- 
terpreted as  to  make  us  alter  our  conceptions  of  what  self-con- 
sciousness, and  Reason,  and  all  mental  manifestations  in  them- 
selves are,  then  indeed  we  may  well  be  jealous — not  of  the  facts, 
but  of  the  illogical  use  which  is  often  made  of  them.  Self-con- 
sciousness and  Reason  and  Affection,  and  Fear,  and  Pain,  and 
Pleasure,  are  in  themselves  exactly  what  we  have  always  known 
them  to  be  ;  and  no  discovery  as  to  the  physical  Apparatus 
with  which  they  are  somehow  connected  can  throw  the  smallest 
obscurity  on  the  criteria  by  which  they  are  to  be  identified  as 
so  many  different  phenomena  of  Mind.  Our  old  knowledge  of 
the  work  done  is  in  no  way  altered  by  any  new  information  as 
to  the  Apparatus  by  which  it  is  effected.  This  is  the  error  com- 
mitted by  those  who  think  they  can  found  a  new  Psychology  on 
the  knife.  They  seem  to  think  that  Sensation  and  Memory,  and 
Reasoning  and  Will,  become  something  different  from  that 
which  hitherto  we  have  known  them  to  be,  when  we  have  found 
out  that  each  of  these  powers  may  have  some  special  "  seat " 
or  "  organ  "  in  the  body.  This,  however,  is  a  pure  delusion. 
The  known  element  in  Psychology  is  always  the  nature  of  the 
mental  faculty ;  the  unknown  element  is  always  the  nature  of 
its  connection  with  any  Organ.  We  know  the  operations  of 
our  own  minds  with  a  fulness  and  reality  which  does  not  belong 
to  any  other  knowledge  whatever.  We  do  not  know  the  bond  of 
union  between  these  operations  and  the  brain,  except  as  a  sort 
of  external  and  wholly  unintelligible  fact.  Remembering  all 
this,  then,  we  need  not  fear  or  shrink  from  the  admission  that 
Man  is  a  reasoning  and  self-conscious  machine,  just  in  the 
same  sense  in  which  the  lower  animals  are  machines  which 
have  been  made  to  exhibit  and  possess  certain  mental  faculties 
of  a  lower  class. 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.      69 

But  what  of  this  ?  What  is  the  value  of  this  conclusion  ? 
Its  value  would  be  small  indeed  if  this  conception  of  ourselves 
as  machines  could  be  defended  nly  as  a  harmless  metaphor. 
But  there  is  far  more  to  be  said  for  it  and  about  it  than  this. 
The  conception  is  one  which  is  not  only  harmless,  but  pro- 
foundly true,  as  all  metaphors  are  when  they  are  securely 
rooted  in  the  Homologies  of  Nature.  There  is  much  to  be 
learnt  from  that  aspect  of  Mind  in  which  we  regard  its  powers 
as  intimately  connected  with  a  material  Apparatus,  and  from 
that  aspect  of  our  own  bodies  in  which  they  are  regarded  as  one 
in  structure  with  the  bodies  of  the  brutes.  Surely  it  would  be 
a  strange  object  of  ambition  to  try  to  think  that  we  are  not  in- 
cluded in  the  vast  System  of  Adjustment  which  we  have  thus 
traced  in  them  ;  that  our  nobler  faculties  have  no  share  in  the 
secure  and  wonderful  guarantee  which  it  affords  for  the  truth- 
fulness of  all  mental  gifts.  It  is  well  that  we  should  place  a 
high  estimate  on  the  superiority  of  the  powers  which  we  possess  ; 
and  that  the  distinction,  with  all  its  consequences,  between 
self-conscious  Reason  and  the  comparatively  simple  percep- 
tions of  the  Beasts,  should  be  ever  kept  in  view.  But  it  is  not 
well  that  we  should  omit  from  that  estimate  a  common  element 
of  immense  importance  which  belongs  to  both,  and  the  value 
of  which  becomes  immeasurably  greater  in  its  connection  with 
our  special  gifts.  That  element  is  the  element  of  Adjustment 
— the  element  which  suggests  the  idea  of  an  Apparatus — the 
element  which  constitutes  all  our  higher  faculties  the  index  and 
the  result  of  a  Pre-adjusted  Harmony.  In  the  light  of  this  con- 
ception we  can  see  a  new  meaning  in  our  "  place  in  Nature  ;  " 
that  place  which,  so  far  as  our  bodily  Organs  are  concerned, 
assigns  to  us  simply  a  front  rank  among  the  creatures  which 
are  endowed  with  Life.  It  is  in  virtue  of  that  place  and  asso- 
ciation that  we  may  be  best  assured  that  our  special  gifts  have 
the  same  relation  to  the  higher  realities  of  Nature  which  the 
lower  faculties  of  the  Beasts  have  to  the  lower  realities  of  the 
physical  world.  Whatever  we  have  that  is  peculiar  to  ourselves 
is  built  up  on  the  same  firm  foundation  on  which  all  Animal  In- 
stinct rests. 

It  is  often  said  that  we  can  never  really  know  what  unreason- 
ing Instinct  is,  because  we  can  never  enter  into  an  animal  mind, 


70  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

and  see  what  is  working  there.  Men  are  so  apt  to  be  arrogant 
in  philosophy  that  it  seems  almost  wrong  to  deprecate  even  any 
semblance  of  the  consciousness  of  ignorance.  But  it  were 
much  to  de  desired  that  the  modesty  of  Philosophers  would 
come  in  the  right  places.  I  hold  that  we  can  know,  and  can  al- 
most thoroughly  understand,  the  instincts  of  the  lower  animals  ; 
and  this,  for  the  best  of  all  reasons,  that  we  are  ourselves  ani- 
mals, whatever  more  ; — having,  to  a  large  extent,  precisely  the 
same  instincts,  with  the  additional  power  of  looking  down  upon 
ourselves  in  this  capacity  from  a  higher  elevation  to  which  we 
can  ascend  at  will.  Not  only  are  our  bodily  functions  precisely 
similar  to  those  of  the  lower  animals, — some,  like  the  beating 
of  the  heart,  being  purely  "  automatic  "  or  involuntary — others 
being  partially,  and  others  again  being  wholly,  under  the  con- 
trol of  the  Will, — but  many  of  our  sensations  and  emotions  are 
obviously  the  same  with  the  sensations  and  emotions  of  the 
lower  animals,  connected  with  precisely  the  same  machinery, 
presenting  precisely  the  same  phenomena,  and  recognizable  by 
all  the  same  criteria. 

It  is  true  that  many  of  our  actions  become  instinctive  and 
mechanical  only  as  the  result  of  a  previous  intellectual  operation 
of  the  self-conscious  or  reasoning  kind.  And  this,  no  doubt,  is 
the  origin  of  the  dream  that  all  Instinct,  even  in  the  animals, 
has  had  the  same  origin ;  a  dream  due  to  the  exaggerated  "  An- 
thropomorphism "  of  those  very  philosophers  who  are  most  apt 
to  denounce  this  sort  of  error  in  others.  But  Man  has  many 
instincts  like  the  animals,  to  which  no  such  origin  in  personal 
experience  or  in  previous  reasoning  can  be  assigned.  For  not 
only  in  earliest  infancy,  but  throughout  life,  we  do  innumerable 
things  to  which  we  are  led  by  purely  organic  impulse  ;  things 
which  have  indeed  a  reason  and  a  use,  but  a  reason  which  we 
never  know,  and  a  use  which  we  never  discern,  till  we  come  to 
"  think."  And  how  different  this  process  of  "  thinking  "  is  we 
know  likewise  from  our  own  experience.  In  contemplating 
the  phenomena  of  reasoning  and  of  conscious  deliberation,  it 
really  seems  as  if  it  were  impossible  to  sever  it  from  the  idea  of 
a  double  Personality.  Tennyson's  poem  of  the  "  Two  Voices  '' 
is  no  poetic  exaggeration  of  the  duality  of  which  we  are  con- 
scious when  we  attend  to  the  mental  operations  of  our  own 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.      71 

most  complex  nature.  It  is  as  if  there  were  within  us  one 
Being  always  receptive  of  suggestions,  and  always  responding 
in  the  form  of  impulse — and  another  Being  capable  of  passing 
these  suggestions  in  review  before  it,  and  of  allowing  or  disal- 
lowing the  impulses  to  which  they  give  rise.  There  is  a  pro- 
found difference  between  creatures  in  which  one  only  of  these 
voices  speaks,  and  Man,  whose  ears  are,  as  it  were,  open  to  them 
both.  The  things  which  we  do  in  obedience  to  the  lower  and 
simpler  voice  are  indeed  many,  various,  and  full  of  a  true  and 
wonderful  significance.  But  the  things  which  we  do  and  the 
affections  which  we  cherish,  in  obedience  to  the  higher  voice, 
have  a  rank,  a  meaning,  and  a  scope  which  is  all  their  own. 
There  is  no  indication  in  the  lower  animals  of  this  double  Per- 
sonality. There  is  no  indication  that  they  hear  any  voice  but 
one  ;  and  there  is  every  indication  that  in  obeying  it  the  whole 
law  of  their  Being  is  perfectly  fulfilled.  This  it  is  which  gives 
such  restfulness  to  Nature,  whose  abodes  are  indeed  what 
Wordsworth  calls  them — 

"  Abodes  where  Self-disturbance  hath  no  part." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  double  Personality,  the  presence  of 
"  Two  Voices,"  is  never  wholly  wanting  even  in  the  most  de- 
graded of  human  Beings — their  thoughts  everywhere  "  accusing 
or  else  excusing  one  another." 

Knowing,  therefore,  in  ourselves  both  these  kinds  of  opera- 
tion, we  can  measure  the  difference  between  them,  and  we  can 
thoroughly  understand  how  animals  may  be  able  to  do  all  that 
they  actually  perform,  without  ever  passing  through, .the  proc- 
esses of  argument  by  which  we  reach  the  conclusions  of  con- 
scious Reason  and  of  moral  Obligation.  Moreover,  seeing  and 
feeling  the  difference,  we  can  see  and  feel  the  relations  which 
obtain  between  the  two  classes  of  mental  work.  The  plain  truth 
is,  that  the  higher  and  more  complicated  work  is  done,  and  can 
only  be  done  in  this  life,  with  the  materials  supplied  by  the 
lower  and  simpler  tools.  Nay,  more,  the  very  highest  and  most 
inspiring  mental  processes  rest  upon  the  lower,  as  a  building 
rests  upon  its  foundation-stones.  The  impressions  and  concep- 
tions which  belong  to  Instinct  are  like  the  rude  but  massive 


72  THE  UNITY  OF   NATURE. 

substructions  from  which  some  great  Temple  springs.  Not  only 
is  the  impulse,  the  disposition,  and  the  ability  to  reason  as  purely 
intuitive  and  congenital  in  Man  as  the  disposition  to  eat,  but 
the  fundamental  axioms  on  which  all  reasoning  rests  are,  and 
can  only  be,  intuitively  perceived.  This,  indeed,  is  the  essential 
character  of  all  the  axioms  or  self-evident  propositions  which 
are  the  basis  of  reasoning,  that  the  truth  of  them  is  perceived 
by  an  act  of  apprehension,  which,  if  it  depends  on  any  process, 
depends  on  a  process  unconscious,  involuntary,  and  purely  au- 
tomatic. But  this  is  the  definition,  the  only  definition,  of  In- 
stinct or  Intuition.  All  conscious  reasoning  thus  starts  from 
the  data  which  this  great  Faculty  supplies ;  and  all  our  trust 
and  confidence  in  the  results  of  reasoning  must  depend  on  our 
trust  and  confidence  in  the  Adjusted  Harmony  which  has  been 
established  between  Instinct  and  the  truths  of  Nature. 

Not  only  is  the  idea  of  mechanism  consistent  with  this  con- 
fidence, but  it  is  inseparable  from  it.  No  firmer  ground  for 
that  confidence  can  be  given  us  in  thought  than  this  conception, 
— that  as  tLe  eye  of  sense  is  a  mechanism  specially  adjusted  to 
receive  the  light  of  heaven,  so  is  the  mental  eye  a  mechanism 
specially  adjusted  to  perceive  those  realities  which  are  in  the 
nature  of  necessary  and  eternal  Truth.  Moreover,  the  same 
conception  helps  us  to  understand  the  real  nature  of  those 
limitations  upon  our  faculties  which  curtail  their  range,  and 
which  yet,  in  a  sense,  we  may  be  said  partially  to  overpass  in 
the  very  act  of  becoming  conscious  of  them.  We  see  it  to  be  a 
great  law  prevailing  in  the  instincts  of  the  lower  animals,  and 
in  our  own,  that  they  are  true  not  only  as  guiding  the  animal 
rightly  to  the  satisfaction  of  whatever  appetite  is  immediately 
concerned,  but  true  also  as  ministering  to  ends  of  which  the 
animal  knows  nothing,  although  they  are  ends  of  the  highest 
importance,  both  in  its  own  economy  and  in  the  far-off  econo- 
mies of  Creation.  In  direct  proportion  as  our  own  minds  and 
intellects  partake  of  the  same  nature,  and  are  founded  on  the 
same  principle  of  Adjustment,  we  may  feel  assured  that  the 
same  law  prevails  in  their  nobler  work  and  functions.  And  the 
glorious  law  is  no  less  than  this — that  the  work  of  Instinct  is 
true  not  only  for  the  short  way  it  goes,  but  for  that  infinite 
distance  into  which  it  leads  in  a  right  direction. 


ANIMAL  INSTINCT  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  MIND  OF  MAN.      73 

I  know  no  argument  better  fitted  than  this  to  dispel  the 
sickly  dreams,  the  morbid  misgivings,  of  the  Agnostic.  Nor  do 
I  know  of  any  other  conception  as  securely  founded  on  science, 
properly  so  called,  which  better  serves  to  render  intelligible 
and  to  bring  within  the  familiar  analogies  of  Nature  those 
higher  and  rarer  mental  gifts  which  we  know  as  Genius,  and 
even  that  highest  and  rarest  of  all  which  we  understand  as 
Inspiration.  That  the  human  Mind  is  always  in  some  degree, 
and  that  certain  individual  minds  have  been  in  a  special  degree, 
reflecting  surfaces,  as  it  were,  for  the  verities  of  the  unseen  and 
eternal  world,  -is  a  conception  having  all  the  characters  of  co- 
herence which  assure  us  of  its  harmony  with  the  general  con- 
stitution and  the  common  course  of  things. 

And  so  this  doctrine  of  Animal  Automatism — the  notion  that 
the  Mind  of  Man  is  indeed  a  structure  and  a  mechanism — a 
notion  which  is  held  over  our  heads  as  a  terror  and  a  doubt — 
becomes,  when  closely  scrutinized,  the  most  comforting  and  re- 
assuring of  all  conceptions.  No  stronger  assurance  can  be 
given  us  that  our  Faculties,  when  rightly  used,  are  Powers  on 
which  we  can  indeed  rely.  It  reveals  what  may  be  called  the 
strong  physical  foundations  on  which  the  truthfulness  of  Reason 
rests.  And  more  than  this — it  clothes  with  the  like  character 
of  trustworthiness  every  instinctive  and  intuitive  affection  of 
the  human  soul.  It  roots  the  reasonableness  of  Faith  in  our 
conviction  of  the  Unities  of  Nature.  It  tells  us  that  as  we 
know  the  instincts  of  the  lower  animals  to  be  the  index  and 
the  result  of  Laws  which  are  out  of  sight  to  them,  so  also  have 
our  own  higher  instincts  the  same  relation  to  Truths  which  are 
of  corresponding  dignity  and  of  corresponding  scope. 

Nor  can  this  conception  of  the  Mind  of  Man  being  connected 
with  an  adjusted  mechanism  cast,  as  has  been  suggested,  any 
doubt  on  the  freedom  of  the  Will — such  as  by  the  direct  evi- 
dence of  consciousness,  we  know  that  freedom  to  be.  This 
suggestion  is  simply  a  repetition  of  the  same  inveterate  confu- 
sion of  thought  which  has  been  exposed  before.  The  question 
what  our  powers  are  is  in  no  way  affected  by  the  admission  or 
discovery  that  they  are  all  connected  with  an  Apparatus. 
Consciousness  does  not  tell  us  that  we  stand  unrelated  to  the 
System  of  things  of  which  we  form  a  part.  We  dream — or 


74  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

rather  we  simply  rave — if  we  think  we  are  free  to  choose  among 
things  which  are  not  presented  to  our  choice, — of  if  we  think 
that  choice  itself  can  be  free  from  motives, — or  if  we  think  that 
we  can  find  any  motive  outside  the  number  of  those  to  which 
by  the  structure  of  our  Mind  and  of  its  Organ  we  have  been 
made  accessible.  The  only  freedom  of  which  we  are  really 
conscious  is  freedom  from  compulsion  in  choosing  among 
things  which  are  presented  to  our  choice, — consciousness  also 
attesting  the  fact  that  among  those  things  some  are  coincident 
and  some  are  not  coincident  with  acknowledged  Obligation. 
This,  and  all  other  direct  perceptions,  are  not  weakened  but 
confirmed  by  the  doctrine  that  our  minds  are  connected  with 
an  Adjusted  Mechanism.  Because  the  first  result  of  this  con- 
ception is  to  establish  the  evidence  of  consciousness  when 
given  under  healthy  conditions,  and  when  properly  ascertained, 
as  necessarily  the  best  and  the  nearest,  representation  of  the 
truth.  This  it  does  in  recognizing  ourselves,  and  all  the  facul- 
ties we  possess,  to  be  nothing  but  the  result  and  index  of  an 
Adjustment  contrived  by  and  reflecting  the  Mind  which  is 
supreme  in  Nature.  We  are  derived  and  not  original.  We 
have  been  created,  or — if  any  one  likes  the  phrase  better — we 
have  been  "  evolved ;  "  not,  however,  out  of  nothing,  nor  out 
of  confusion,  nor  out  of  lies, — but  out  of  "  Nature,"  \vbich  is 
but  a  word  for  the  whole  Sum  and  System  of  intelligible  things 
— the  embodiment  of  all  Order,  the  expression  of  all  Truth — 
the  issue  of  the  Fountain  in  which  all  fulness  dwells. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ON     THE    LIMITS     OF     HUMAN     KNOWLEDGE     CONSIDERED     WITH 
REFERENCE   TO   THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

AND  yet,  although  it  is  to  Nature  in  this  highest  and  widest 
sense  that  we  belong — although  it  is  out  of  this  fountain  that 
we  have  come,  and  it  is  out  of  its  fulness  that  we  have  received 
all  that  we  have  and  are,  men  have  doubted,  and  will  doubt 
again,  whether  we  can  be  sure  of  anything  concerning  it. 

If  this  terrible  misgiving  had  affected  individual  minds  alone 
in  moments  of  weariness  and  despair,  there  would  have  been 
little  to  say  about  it.  Such  moments  may  come  to  all  of  us, 
and  the  distrust  which  they  leave  behind  them  may  be  the  sor- 
est of  human  trials.  It  is  no  unusual  result  of  abortive  yet  nat- 
ural effort,  and  of  innate  yet  baffled  curiosity.  But  this  doubt, 
which  is  really  nothing  more  than  a  morbid  effect  of  weakness 
and  fatigue,  has  been  embraced  as  a  doctrine  and  systematized 
into  a  Philosophy.  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that  there  are  some 
partial  aspects  of  our  knowledge  in  which  its  very  elements 
seem  to  dissolve  and  disappear  under  the  power  of  self-analysis, 
so  that  the  sum  of  it  is  reduced  to  little  more  than  a  conscious- 
ness of  ignorance.  All  that  we  know  of  Matter  is  so  different 
from  all  that  we  are  conscious  of  in  Mind,  that  the  relations  be- 
tween the  two  are  really  incomprehensible  and  inconceivable  to 
us.  Hence  this  relation  constitutes  a  region  of  darkness  in 

^which  it  is  easy  to  lose  ourselves  in  an  abyss  of  utter  scepticism. 

•v  What  proof  have  we — it  has  been  often  asked — that  the  mental 
impressions  we  derive  from  objects  are  in  any  way  like  the 
truth  ?  We  know  only  the  phenomena,  not  the  reality  of  things. 
We  are  conversant  with  things  as  they  appear,  not  with  things 
as  they  are  "  in  themselves."  What  proof  have  we  that  these 
phenomena  give  us  any  real  knowledge  of  the  truth  ?  How,  in- 
deed, is  it  possible  that  knowledge  so  "  relative  "  and  so  "  con- 
ditioned " — relative  to  a  mind  so  limited,  and  conditioned  by 
senses  which  tell  us  of  nothing  but  sensations — how  can  such 
knowledge  be  accepted  as  substantial  ?  J  Is  it  not  plain  that  ouv 


76  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

conceptions  of  Creation  and  of  a  Creator  are  all  mere  "  Anthro- 
pomorphism ?  "  Is  it  not  our  own  shadow  that  we  are  always 
chasing?  Is  it  not  a  mere  bigger  image  of  ourselves  to  which 
we  are  always  bowing  down  ? 

It  is  upon  suggestions  such  as  these  that  the  Agnostic  phi- 
losophy, or  the  philosophy  of  Nescience,  is  founded — the  doc- 
trine that,  concerning  all  the  highest  problems  which  it  both  in- 
terests and  concerns  us  most  to  know,  we  never  can  have  any 
knowledge  or  any  rational  and  assured  belief. 

It  may  be  well  to  come  to  the  consideration  of  this  doctrine 
along  those  avenues  of  approach  which  start  from  the  concep- 
tion we  have  now  gained  of  the  Unity  of  Nature. 

Nothing,  certainly,  in  the  human  Mind  is  more  wonderful 
than  this — that  it  is  conscious  of  its  own  limitations.  For  it  is 
to  be  observed  that  such  consciousness  would  be  impossible  if 
these  limitations  were  in  their  nature  absolute.  The  bars  which 
we  feel  so  much,  and  against  which  we  so  often  beat  in  vain,  are 
bars  which  could  not  be  felt  at  all  unless  there  were  something 
in  us  which  seeks  a  wider  scope.  It  is  as  if  these  bars  were  a 
limit  of  opportunity  rather  than  a  boundary  of  power.  No  ab- 
solute limitation  of  mental  faculty  ever  is,  or  ever  could  be,  felt 
by  the  creatures  whom  it  affects.  Of  this  we  have  abundant 
evidence  in  the  lower  animals,  and  in  those  lower  faculties  of 
our  own  nature  which  are  of  like  kind  to  theirs.  Our  bodily  ap- 
petites can  seek  nothing  beyond  or  beside  the  objects  of  their 
desire.  To  the  attainment  of  these  objects  that  desire  is  lim- 
ited, and  with  this  attainment  it  is  satisfied.  Moreover,  when  a 
bodily  appetite  is  satisfied,  it  for  the  time  ceases  to  exist,  and 
may  even  be  converted  into  nausea  and  disgust  towards  that 
which  had  been  the  object  of  pursuit.  This  is  the  necessary 
effect  of  a  limitation  which  is  absolute.  But  the  case  is  very 
different  with  the  appetites  of  the  Mind,  and  still  more  with  the 
cravings  of  the  Spirit.  Even  in  the  purest  physical  investiga- 
tions we  are  perpetually  encountering  some  mental  barrier 
through  which  we  cannot  break,  and  over  which  we  cannot  see. 
And  yet  we  know  it  and  feel  it  to  be  a  barrier  and  nothing  more. 
We  stop  in  front  of  it  not  because  we  are  satisfied,  but  because 
it  bars  our  way.  Not  only  do  we  know  that  there  is  something 
on  the  other  side,  but  we  know  that  the  things  on  the  other  side 


THE   LIMITS    OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  77 

are  so  closely  related  to  the  things  on  this  side  that  without 
some  vision  rf  them  we  cannot  really  understand  even  the 
things  we  see.  We  feel  our  own  ignorance,  and  our  own  help- 
lessness, not  because  we  have  reached,  but  because  we  cannot 
reach,  the  limits  of  our  intellectual  powers,  and  because  the  de- 
sires which  correspond  to  them  are  consequently  left  unsatis- 
fied. This  is  the  difference  between  ourselves  and  the  lower 
animals.  We  can  perfectly  understand  the  absolute  limitations 
under  which  they  lie,  because  in  many  of  our  lower  faculties  we 
share  these  limitations  with  the  Beasts.  All  their  powers  and 
many  of  our  own  are  exerted  without  any  sense  of  limitation, 
and  this  because  of  the  very  fact  that  the  limitation  of  them  is 
absolute  and  complete.  In  their  own  nature  they  admit  of  no 
larger  use.  The  field  of  effort  and  of  attainable  enjoyment  is, 
as  regards  them,  co-extensive  with  the  whole  field  in  view. 
Nothing  is  seen,  or  felt,  or  wished  for  by  them  which  may  not 
be  possessed.  In  such  possession  all  exertion  ends,  and  all  de- 
sire is  satisfied.  This  is  the  law  of  every  faculty  subject  to  a 
limit  which  is  absolute  ;  and  where  this  law  does  not  apply,  there 
we  may  be  sure  that  the  limitation  is  not  absolute  but  conditional. 
Now  this  is  the  state  of  things  in  respect  to  all  the  higher 
faculties  of  the  human  Mind,  when  viewed  in  relation  to  the 
objects  of  their  desire.  These  objects  are  never  attained  fully, 
and  as  a  necessary  consequence  that  desire  is  never  wholly 
satisfied.  Not  only  do  we  know  vaguely  that  there  are  things 
of  which  we  are  ignorant,  but  very  often  we  know  precisely 
what  it  is  that  we  ask,  and  ask  in  vain.  Moreover,  the  questions 
which  excite  our  interest  most,  and  which  we  feel  to  be  most 
insoluble,  are  precisely  those  which  most  nearly  concern  our- 
selves. Not  to  speak  of  the  connection  of  the  Body  and  the 
Mind,  not  to  speak  of  the  nature  of  Life,  or  still  more  of  the 
nature  of  Death, — the  simplest  questions  connected  with  our  own 
Organization  are  unanswered  and  unanswerable.  Science  gives 
us  no  help,  because  the  explanations  which  to  it  are  ultimate  are 
not  ultimate  at  all  to  the  faculties  which  seek  for  more  light 
concerning  them.  The  very  language  of  science  is,  in  this  re- 
spect, often  more  deceptive  than  helpful,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the 
fashion  of  scientific  men  to  pass  off  as  explanations,  the  mere 
re-statement  of  facts  concealed  under  words  derived  from  the 


78  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

dead  languages.  Perhaps  it  is  all  that  they  can  do  :  but  at  least 
the  poverty  of  the  device  should  be  seen  and  known.  The 
"  atoms  "  and  the  "  molecules  " — the  "  cells  "  and  the  "  differ- 
entiated structures  " — are  these  the  builders, — or  are  they  only 
the  bricks  and  stones  ?  And  the  Forces  and  the  Energies  which 
work  in  these  and  upon  these,  what  are  they  ?  And  if  these 
are  undying  and  inexhaustible,  how  are  all  the  forms  in  which 
they  are  embodied  so  fugitive  and  evanescent  ?  Our  desire  of 
knowing  these  things  is  more  intense  in  proportion  to  the  over- 
whelming interest  which  our  faculties  do  feel  and  recognize  as 
belonging  to  them.  In  the  contrast  between  the  eagerness  of 
these  appetites  of  the  Mind,  and  the  conscious  weakness  of  the 
powers  by  which  they  can  be  satisfied,  we  see  a  condition  of 
things  on  which  the  Unity  of  Nature  throws  an  important  light. 
In  physics,  the  existence  of  any  pressure  is  the  index  of  a  "  po- 
tential energy  "  which,  though  it  may  be  doing  no  work,  is  yet 
always  capable  of  doing  it.  And  so  in  the  intellectual  world, 
the  sense  of  pressure  and  confinement  is  the  index  of  powers 
which  under  other  conditions  are  capable  of  doing  what  they 
cannot  do  at  present.  It  is  in  these  conditions  that  the  barrier 
consists,  and  at  least  to  a  large  extent  they  are  external.  What 
we  feel,  in  short,  is  less  an  incapacity  than  a  restraint. 

So  much  undoubtedly  is  to  be  said  as  to  the  nature  of  those 
limitations  on  our  mental  powers  of  which  we  are  conscious. 
And  the  considerations  thus  presented  to  us  are  of  immense 
importance  in  qualifying  the  conclusions  to  be  drawn  from  the 
facts  of  consciousness.  They  do  not  justify,  although  they 
may  account  for,  any  feeling  of  despair  as  to  the  ultimate  ac- 
cessibility of  that  knowledge  which  we  so  much  desire.  On 
the  contrary,  they  suggest  the  idea  that  there  is  within  us  a 
Reserve  of  Power  to  some  unknown  and  indefinite  extent. 
It  is  as  if  we  could  understand  indefinitely  more  than  we  can 
discover,  if  only  some  higher  Intelligence  would  explain  it  to  us. 

But  if  it  is  of  importance  to  take  note  of  this  Reserve  of 
Power  of  which  we  are  conscious  in  ourselves,  it  is  at  least  of 
equal  importance  to  estimate  aright  the  conceptions  to  which 
we  can  and  do  attain  without  drawing  upon  this  Reserve  at  all. 
Not  only  are  the  bars  confining  us  bars  which  we  can  conceive 
removed,  but  they  are  bars  which  in  certain  directions  offer  no 


THE   LIMITS   OF   HUMAN   KNOWLEDGE.  79 

impediment  at  all  to  a  boundless  range  of  vision.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  subject  on  which  the  fallacies  of  philosophic  phrase- 
ology have  led  to  greater  errors.  "That  the  Finite  cannot 
comprehend  the  Infinite,"  is  a  proposition  constantly  propounded 
as  an  undoubted  and  all-comprehensive  truth.  Such  truth  as 
does  belong  to  it  seems  to  come  from  the  domain  of  Physics,  in 
which  it  represents  the  axiom  that  a  part  cannot  be  equal  to 
the  whole.  From  this,  in  the  domain  of  Mind,  it  comes  to  rep- 
resent the  truth,  equally  undeniable,  that  we  cannot  know  all 
that  Infinity  contains.  But  the  meaning  into  which  it  is  liable 
to  pass  when  applied  to  Mind  is  that  Man  cannot  conceive  In- 
finity. And  never  was  any  proposition  so  commonly  accepted 
which,  in  this  sense,  is  so  absolutely  devoid  of  all  foundation. 
Not  only  is  Infinity  conceivable  by  us,  but  it  is  inseparable  from 
conceptions  which  are  of  all  others  the  most  familiar.  Both 
the  great  conceptions  of  Space  and  Time  are,  in  their  very  nature, 
infinite.  We,  cannot  conceive  of  either  of  these  as  subject  to 
limitation.  AVe  cannot  conceive  of  a  moment  after  which  there 
shall  be  no  more  Time,  nor  of  a  boundary  beyond  which  there 
is  no  more  Spacey  This  means  that  we  cannot  but  think  of 
Space  as  infinite,  and  of  Time  as  everlasting. 

If  these  two  conceptions  stood  alone  they  would  be  enough  ; 
for  in  regard  to  them  the  only  incapacity  under  which  we  labor 
is  the  incapacity  to  conceive  the  Finite.  All  the  divisions  of 
Space  and  Time  with  which  we  are  so  familiar, — our  days  and 
months  and  years,  and  our  various  units  of  distance, — we  can 
only  think  of  as  bits  and  fragments  of  a  whole  which  is  illimita- 
ble. And  although  these  great  conceptions  of  Space  and  Time 
are  possibly  the  only  conceptions  to  which  the  idea  of  infinity 
attaches  as  an  absolute  necessity  of  Thought,  they  are  by  no 
means  the  only  conceptions  to  which  the  same  idea  can  be 
attached,  and  probably  ought  to  be  so.  The  conception  of 
Matter  is  one,  and  the  conception  of  Force*  is  another,  to 
which  we  do  not  perhaps  attach,  as  of  necessity,  the  idea  of 

*  I  use  the  word  u  Force  "  as  the  cause  or  source  of  "Energy."  Professor  Tait 
now  maintains  that  Force  has  no  real  or  objective  existence.  But  the  arguments  for 
this  proposition  would  be  equally  valid  against  the  u  reality  "  of  Sound  and  of  Light, 
and  of  other  things  for  which  we  must  have  a  name.  In  all  these  cases  the  name  or 
the  word  denotes,  not  a  "  thing,"  but  a  group  of  relations  among  u  things."  This 
however  is  equally  true  of  "  Energy."  Se§  a  paper  u  On  the  Reality  of  Force,"  by 
W.  R.  Browne,  C.E.,  Phil.  Mag.,  Nov.,  1883. 


8o  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

indestructibility,  or  the  idea  of  eternal  existence  and  of  infinite 
extension.  But  it  is  remarkable  that  in  exact  proportion  as 
science  advances,  we  are  coming  to  understand  that  both  of 
these  are  conceptions  to  which  the  idea  of  infinity  not  only  may 
be,  but  ought  to  be  attached.  That  is  to  say,  that  the  eternal 
existence  of  Matter  and  the^eternal  duration  of  Force  are  not, 
only  conceivable  but  true.  (Nay,  it  may  be  our  ignorance  alone' 
that  makes  us  think  we  can  conceive  the  contrary.  It  is  possi- 
ble to  conceive  of  Space  being  utterly  devoid  of  Matter,  only 
perhaps  because  we  are  accustomed  to  see  and  to  think  of 
spaces  which  are  indeed  empty  of  visible  substances.  We  can 
expel  also  the  invisible  substances  or  gases  of  the  atmosphere, 
and  we  can  speak  and  think  of  the  result  as  a  "  vacuum."  But 
we  know  now  that  when  air  and  all  other  terrestrial  gases  are 
gone  the  luminiferous  medium  remains  ;  and  so  far  as  we  have 
means  of  knowing,  this  medium  is  ubiquitous  and  omnipresent 
in  the  whole  Universe  of  Space.  In  like  manner  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  see  solid  matter  so  dissipated  as  to  be  invisible,  intan- 
gible, and  wholly  imperceptible  ;  and  therefore  we  think  we  can 
imagine  Matter  to  be  really  destructible.  But  the  more  we 
know  of  it,  the  more  certain  we  become  that  it  cannot  be 
destroyed,  and  can  only  be  redistributed.  In  like  manner,  in 
regard  to  Force,  we  are  accustomed  to  see  Matter  in  what  is 
called  statical  equilibrium — that  is  to  say,  at  rest ;  and  so  per- 
haps we  think  we  can  conceive  the  cessation  or  extinction  of 
Force.  But  here  again  the  progress  of  research  is  tending 
more  and  more  to  attach  irrevocably  the  idea  of  indestructi- 
bility— that  is,  of  eternal  existence — to  that  which  we  know  as 
Force. 

The  truth  is,  that  this  conception  is  really  implicitly  in- 
volved in  the  conception  of  the  indestructibility  of  Matter. 
For  all  that  we  know  of  Matter  is  inseparably  connected 
with  the  Forces  which  it  exerts,  or  which  it  is  capable  of  ex- 
erting, or  which  are  being  exerted  in  it.  The  force  of  gravi- 
tation seems  to  be  all-pervading,  and  to  be  either  an  inher- 
ent power  or  property  in  every  kind,  or  almost  every  kind 
tot  Matter,*  or  else  to  be  the  result  of  some  kind  of  energy 

*  So  far  as  known  the  luminiferous  medium  is  not  ponderable.    But,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is,  not  improbably,  concerned  in  gravitation  as  a  cause. 


THE  LIMITS   OF   HUMAN   KNOWLEDGE.  8 1 

which  is  universal  and  unquenchable.  All  bodies,  however 
passive  and  inert  they  may  seem  to  be  under  certain  condi- 
tions, yet  indicate  by  their  very  existence  the  power  of  those 
molecular  forces  to  which  the  cohesion  of  their  atoms  is  due. 
The  fact  is  now  familiar  to  us  that  the  most  perfect  stillness 
and  apparent  rest  in  many  forms  of  Matter,  is  but  the  result  of 
a  balance  or  equilibrium  maintained  between  forces  of  the 
most  tremendous  energy,  which  are  ready  to  burst  forth  at  a 
moment's  notice,  when  the  conditions  are  changed  under  which 
that  balance  is  maintained.  And  this  principle,  which  has 
become  familiar  in  the  case  of  what  are  called  explosive  sub- 
stances, because  of  the  ease  and  the  certainty  with  which  the 
balanced  forces  can  be  liberated,  is  a  principle  which  really 
prevails  in  the  composition  of  all  material  substances  what- 
ever ;  the  only  difference  being  that  the  energies  by  which 
their  molecules  are  held  together  are  so  held  under  conditions 
which  are  more  stable — conditions  which  it  is  much  more 
difficult  to  change — and  conditions,  therefore,  which  conceal 
from  us  the  universal  prevalence  and  power  of  Force  in  the 
constitution  of  the  material  Universe.  It  is,  therefore,  dis- 
tinctly the  tendency  of  science  more  and  more  to  impress  us 
with  the  idea  of  the  unlimited  duration  and  indestructible 
nature  both  of  Matter  and  of  the  energies  which  work  in  it  and 
upon  it. 

One  of  the  scientific  forms  under  which  this  idea  is  expressed 
is  the  Conservation  of  Energy.  It  affirms  that  though  we  often 
see  moving  bodies  stopped  in  their  course,  and  the  energy  with 
which  they  move  apparently  extinguished,  no  such  extinction  is 
really  effected.  It  affirms  that  this  energy  is  merely  trans- 
formed into  other  kinds  of  motion,  which  may  or  may  not  be 
visible,  but  which,  whether  visible  or  not,  do  always  really 
survive  the  motion  which  has  been  arrested.  It  affirms,  in 
short,  that  Energy,  like  Matter,  of  which  indeed  it  is  but  an 
incident  and  an  attribute,  cannot  be  destroyed  or  lessened  in 
quantity,  but  can  only  be  redistributed. 

As,  however,  the  whole  existing  Order  of  Nature  depends 

on  very  special  distributions  and  concentrations  of  Force,  this 

doctrine  affords  no  ground  for  presuming  on  the  permanence, 

or  even  on  the  prolonged  continuance,  of  that  Order.     Quite 

6 


82  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

the  contrary ;  for  another  general  conception  has  been  attained 
from  science  which  at  first  sight  appears  to  be  a  contradiction 
of  the  doctrine  of  "  Conservation  of  Energy " — namely,  the 
"  Dissipation  of  Energy."  This  doctrine,  however,  does  not 
affirm  that  Energy  can  be  dissipated  in  the  sense  of  being 
wholly  lost  or  finally  extinguished.  It  only  affirms  that  all  the 
existing  concentrations  and  arrangements  of  Force  are  marked 
as  temporary — that  they  are  being  gradually  exhausted,  and 
that  the  forces  concerned  in  them  are  being  diffused  (generally 
in  the  form  of  Heat)  more  and  more  equally  over  the  infini- 
tudes of  Matter  and  of  Space. 

Closely  connected  with,  if  indeed  it  be  not  a  necessary  part 
and  consequence  of,  these  conceptions  of  the  infinity  of  Space 
and  Time,  of  Matter  and  of  Force,  is  the  more  general  concept 
of  Causation. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  anything  happening  without  a 
cause.  Even  if  we  could  conceive  the  utter  destruction  or 
annihilation  of  any  particular  force,  or  form  of  Force,  we  can- 
not conceive  of  this  very  destruction  happening  except  as  the 
effect  of  some  cause.  All  attempts  to  reduce  this  idea  of 
Causation  to  other  and  lower  terms  have  been  worse  than 
futile.  They  have  uniformly  left  out  something  which  is  of  the 
very  essence  of  the  idea.  The  notion  of  "  uniform  antece- 
dence "  is  not  equivalent.  "  Necessary  antecedence  "  is  more 
near  the  mark.  These  words  do  indeed  indicate  the  essential 
element  in  the  idea  with  tolerable  clearness.  But  like  all  other 
simple  fundamental  conceptions,  the  idea  of  Causation  defies 
analysis.  As,  however,  we  cannot  dissociate  the  idea  of  Caus- 
ation from  the  idea  of  Force  or  of  Energy,  it  may  perhaps  be 
said  that  the  indestructibility  or  eternal  duration  of  Force  is  a 
physical  doctrine  which  gives  strength  and  substance  to  the 
metaphysical  concept  of  Causation.  Science  may  discover, 
and  indeed  has  already  discovered,  that  as  regards  our  appli. 
cation  of  the  idea  of  cause,  and  of  the  correlative  idea  of  effect, 
to  particular  cases  of  sequence,  there  is  often  some  apparent 
confusion  arising  from  the  fact  that  the  relative  positions  of 
cause  and  effect  may  be  interchangeable,  so  that  A,  which  at 
one  moment  appears  as  the  cause  of  B,  becomes  at  another 
moment  the  consequence  of  B,  and  not  its  cause.  Thus  Heat 


THE   LIMITS   OF   HUMAN   KNOWLEDGE.  83 

is  very  often  the  cause  of  visible  Motion,  and  visible  Motion  is 
again  the  cause  of  Heat.  And  so  of  the  whole  cycle  of  Physi- 
cal Forces,  which  Sir  W.  Grove  and  others  have  proved  to  be 
"  correlated  " — that  is,  to  be  so  intimately  related  that  each 
may  in  turn  produce  or  pass  into  all  the  others.  But  this 
does  not  really  obscure  or  cast  any  doubt  upon  the  truth  of  our 
idea  of  Causation.  On  the  contrary,  that  idea  is  confirmed  in 
receiving  a  new  interpretation,  and  in  the  disclosure  of  physi- 
cal facts  involving  the  same  conception.  The  necessity  of  the 
connection  between  an  effect  and  its  cause  receives  an  unex- 
pected confirmation  when  it  comes  to  be  regarded  as  simply 
the  necessary  passing  of  an  energy  which  is  universal  and 
indestructible  from  one  form  of  action  into  another.  Heat 
becomes  the  cause  of  Light  because  it  is  the  same  energy 
working  in  a  special  medium.  Conversely  Light  becomes  the 
cause  of  Heat,  because  again  the  same  energy  passes  into 
another  medium  and  there  produces  a  different  effect.  And  so 
all  the  so-called  "  Correlated  Forces  "  may  be  interchangeably 
the  cause  or  the  consequence  of  each  other,  according  to  the 
order  of  time  in  which  the  changes  of  form  are  seen.  This, 
however,  does  not  confound,  but  only  illustrates  the  ineradi- 
cable conviction  that  for  all  such  changes  there  must  be  a 
cause.  It  may  be  perfectly  true  that  all  these  Correlated 
Forces  can  be  ideally  reduced  to  different  "  forms  of  motion ;  " 
but  Motion  itself  is  inconceivable  except  as  existing  in  Matter, 
and  as  the  result  of  some  moving  force.  Every  difference  of 
direction  in  the  motion  or  in  the  form  of  Matter  implies  a 
change,  and  we  can  conceive  no  change  without  a  cause — that 
is  to  say,  apart  from  the  operation  of  some  condition  without 
which  that  change  would  not  have  been. 

The  same  ultimate  conceptions,  and  no  other,  appear  to 
constitute  all  the  truth  that  is  to  be  found  in  a  favorite  doctrine 
among  the  cultivators  of  physical  science — the  so-called  "  Law 
of  Continuity."  This  phrase  is  indeed  often  used  with  such 
looseness  of  meaning  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  understand 
the  primary  signification  attached  to  it.  One  common  defini- 
tion, or  rather  one  common  illustration,  of  this  law  is  said  to 
be  that  Nature  does  nothing  suddenly — nothing  "  per  saltum." 
Of  course  this  can  only  be  accepted  under  some  metaphorical 


84  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

or  transcendental  meaning.  In  Nature  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
a  flash  of  lightning,  and  this  is  generally  recognized  as  suffi- 
ciently sudden.  A  great  many  other  exertions  of  electric  force 
are  of  similar  rapidity.  The  action  of  Chemical  Affinity  is  al- 
ways rapid,  and  very  often  even  instantaneous.  Yet  these  are 
among  the  most  common  and  the  most  powerful  factors  in  the 
mechanism  of  Nature.  They  have  the  most  intimate  connec- 
tion with  the  phenomena  of  Life,  and  we  know  only  too  well 
that  in  these  the  profoundest  changes  are  often  determined  in 
moments  of  time.  For  many  purposes  to  which  this  so-called 
"  Law  of  Continuity "  is  often  applied  in  argument  no  idler 
dogma  was  ever  invented  in  the  schools.  There  is  a  common 
superstition  that  this  so-called  law  shuts  out  the  idea  of  Crea- 
tion, and  negatives  the  possibility,  for  example,  of  the  sudden 
appearance  of  new  Forms  of  Life.  What  it  does  negative, 
however,  is  not  any  appearance  which  is  sudden,  but  only  any 
appearance  which  has  been  unprepared.  But  these  are  two 
very  different  conceptions,  although  they  are  conceptions  very 
easily  confounded.  Innumerable  things  may  come  to  be,  in  a 
moment — in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  But  nothing  can  come 
to  be  without  a  long,  even  if  it  be  a  secret,  history.  The 
"  Law  of  Continuity  "  is,  therefore,  a  phrase  of  ambiguous 
meaning ;  but  at  the  bottom  of  it  there  lies  the  true  and  invin- 
cible conviction  that  for  every  change,  however  sudden — for 
every  "leap,"  however  wide — there  has  always  been  a  long 
chain  of  pre-determining  causes,  and  that  even  the  most  tremen- 
dous bursts  of  Energy  and  the  most  sudden  exhibitions  of 
Force  have  all  been  slowly  and  silently  prepared.  In  this 
sense  the  Law  of  Continuity  is  nothing  but  the  idea  of  Causa- 
tion. It  is  founded  on  the  necessary  duration  which  we  cannot 
but  attribute  to  the  existence  of  Force,  and  this  appears  to  be 
the  only  truth  which  the  Law  of  Continuity  represents. 

When  now  we  consider  the  place  in  the  whole  system  of  our 
knowledge  which  is  occupied  by  these  great  fundamental  con- 
ceptions of  Time  and  Space,  and  of  Matter  and  of  Force,  and 
when  we  consider  that  we  cannot  even  think  of  any  one  of  these 
realities  as  capable  of  coming  to  an  end,  we  may  well  be  as- 
sured that,  whatever  may  be  the  limits  of  the  human  Mind, 
they  certainly  do  not  prevent  us  from  apprehending  Infinity, 


THE   LIMITS   OF    HUMAN   KNOWLEDGE.  85 

On  the  contrary,  it  would  rather  appear  that  this  apprehension 
is  the  invariable  and  necessary  result  of  every  investigation  of 
Nature. 

It  is  indeed  of  the  highest  importance  to  observe  that  some 
of  these  conceptions,  especially  the  indestructibility  of  Matter 
and  of  Force,  belong  to  the  domain  of  science.  That  is  to  say, 
the  systematic  examination  of  natural  phenomena  has  given 
them  a  distinctness  and  a  consistency  which  they  never  pos- 
sessed before.  As  now  accepted  and  defined,  they  are  the 
result  of  direct  experiment.  And  yet,  strictly  speaking,  all 
that  experiment  can  do  is  to  prove  that  in  all  the  cases  in  which 
either  Matter  or  Force  seems  to  be  destroyed,  no  such  destruc- 
tion has  taken  place.  Here  then  we  have  a  very  limited  and 
imperfect  amount  of  "  experience  "  giving  rise  to  an  infinite 
conception.  But  it  is  another  of  the  suggestions  of  the  Agnos- 
tic philosophy  that  this  can  never  be  a  legitimate  result.  Never- 
theless, it  is  a  fact,  that  these  conceptions  have  been  reached. 
They  are  now  universally  accepted  and  taught  as  truths  lying  at 
the  foundation  of  every  branch  of  natural  science — at  once  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  every  physical  investigation.  They 
are  not  what  are  ordinarily  called  "  laws."  They  stand  on  much 
higher  ground.  They  stand  behind  and  before  every  law,  whether 
that  word  be  taken  to  mean  simply  an  observed  order  of  facts, 
or  some  particular  force  to  which  that  order  is  due,  or  some 
combinations  of  force  for  the  discharge  of  function,  or  some 
abstract  definition  of  observed  phenomena  such  as  the  "  laws 
of  motion."  *  All  these,  though  they  may  be  "  invariable  "  so 
far  as  we  can  see,  carry  with  them  no  character  of  universal 
or  necessary  truth — no  conviction  that  they  are  and  must  be 
true  in  all  places  and  for  all  time.  There  is  no  existing  order 
—no  present  combination  of  Matter  or  of  Force — which  we 
cannot  conceive  coming  to  an  end.  But  when  that  end  is  come, 
we  cannot  conceive  but  that  something  must  remain, — if  it  be 
nothing  else  than  that  by  which  the  ending  was  brought  about, 
or}  as  it  were,  the  raw  materials  of  the  creation  which  has 
passed  away. 

That  this  conception,  when  once  suggested  and  clearly  ap- 

*  For  the  fuller  definition  of  the  senses  in  which  u  Law  "  is  used,  see  "  Reign  of 
Law."  Chap.  I. 


86  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

prehended,  cannot  be  eradicated,  is  one  of  the  most  indisputa- 
ble facts  of  instructed  consciousness.  That  no  possible  amount 
of  mere  external  observation  or  experiment  can  cover  the  in- 
finitude of  the  conclusion  is  also  unquestionably  true.  But  if 
"  experience  "  is  to  be  upheld  as  in  any  sense  the  ground  and 
basis  of  all  our  knowledge,  it  must  be  understood  as  em- 
bracing that  most  important  of  all  kinds  of  experience  in  the 
study  of  Nature — the  experience  we  have  of  the  laws  of  Mind. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  certain  of  those  laws,  that  in  proportion 
as  the  powers  of  the  understanding  are  well  developed,  and 
are  prepared  by  previous  training  for  the  interpretation  of 
natural  facts,  there  is  no  relation  whatever  between  the  time 
occupied  in  the  observation  of  phenomena  and  the  breadth  or 
sweep  of  the  conclusions  which  may  be  arrived  at  from  them. 
A  single  glance,  lasting  not  above  a  moment  may  awaken  the 
recognition  of  truths  as  wide  as  the  Universe  and  as  everlasting 
as  Time  itself.  Nay,  it  has  often  happened  in  the  history  of 
science  that  such  recognitions  of  general  truths  have  been 
reached  by  no  other  kind  of  observation  than  that  of  the  Mind 
becoming  conscious  of  its  own  innate  perceptions.  Concep- 
tions of  this  nature  have  perpetually  gone  before  experiment — 
have  suggested  it,  guided  it, — and  have  received  nothing  more 
than  corroboration  from  it.  I  do  not  say  that  these  concep- 
tions have  been  reached  without  any  process.  But  the  proc- 
ess has  been  to  a  large  extent  as  unconscious  as  that  by 
which  we  see  the  light.  I  do  not  say  they  have  been  reached 
without  "  experience,"  even  in  that  narrow  sense  in  which 
it  means  the  observation  of  external  things.  But  the  expe- 
rience has  been  nothing  more  than  the  act  of  living  in  the 
world  and  of  breathing  in  it,  and  of  looking  round  upon  it. 
These  conceptions  have  come  to  Man  because  he  is  a  Being 
in  harmony  with  surrounding  Nature.  The  human  Mind  has 
opened  to  them  as  a  bud  opens  to  the  sun  and  air. 

So  true  is  this,  that  when  reasons  have  been  given  for  the 
conclusions  thus  arrived  at — these  reasons  have  often  been 
quite  erroneous.  Nothing  in  the  history  of  Philosophy  is  more 
curious  than  the  close  correspondence  between  many  ideas 
enunciated  by  the  ancients  as  the  result  of  speculation,  and 
some,  at  least,  of  the  ideas  now  prevalent  as  the  result  of  sci- 


THE   LIMITS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  87 

ence.  It  is  true  that  the  ancients  expressed  them  vaguely, 
associated  them  with  other  conceptions  which  are  wide  of  the 
truth,  and  quoted  in  support  of  them  illustrations  which  are 
often  childish.  Nevertheless,  the  fact  remains  that  they  had 
attained  to  some  central  truths,  however  obscured  the  percep- 
tion may  have  been  by  ignorance  of  the  more  precise  and  ac- 
curate analogies  by  which  they  can  be  best  explained,  and 
which  only  the  process  of  observation  has  revealed.  "They 
had  in  some  way  grasped,"  says  Mr.  Balfour  Stewart,*  "  the 
idea  of  the  essential  unrest  and  energy  of  things.  They  had 
also  the  idea  of  small  particles  or  atoms ;  and  finally  of  a 
medium  of  some  sort,  so  that  they  were  not  wholly  ignorant  of 
the  most  profound  and  deeply  seated  of  the  principles  of  the 
material  universe."  There  is  but  one  explanation  of  this,  but 
it  is  all-sufficient.  It  is  that  the  Mind  of  Man  is  a  part,  and 
one  at  least  of  the  highest  parts,  of  the  System  of  the  Universe 
— the  result  of  mechanism  specially  adapted  to  the  purpose  of 
catching  and  translating  into  thought  the  light  of  truth  as  em- 
bodied in  surrounding  Nature. 

We  have  seen  that  the  foundations  of  all  conscious  reasoning 
are  to  be  found  in  certain  propositions  which  we  call  self-evi- 
dent,— that  is  to  say,  in  propositions  the  truth  of  which  is  intui- 
tively perceived.  We  have  seen,  too,  as  a  general  law  affecting 
all  manifestations  of  Life  or  Mind,  even  in  its  very  lowest  forms, 
that  instinctive  or  intuitional  perceptions  are  the  expression 
and  the  index  of  other  and  larger  truths  which  lie  entirely  be- 
yond the  range  of  the  perception  or  of  the  intuition  which  is 
immediately  concerned.  This  law  holds  good  quite  as  much  of 
the  higher  intuitions  which  are  peculiar  to  Man  as  of  the  mere 
intuitions  of  sensation  which  are  common  to  him  and  to  the  an- 
imals beneath  him.  The  lowest  Savage  does  many  things  by 
mere  instinct  which  contain  implicitly  truths  of  a  very  abstract 
nature — truths  of  which,  as  such,  he  has  not  the  remotest  con- 
ception, and  which  in  the  present  undeveloped  condition  of  his 
faculties  it  would  be  impossible  to  explain  to  him.  Thus, 
when  he  goes  into  the  forest  to  cut  a  branch  fit  for  being  made 
into  a  bow,  or  when  he  goes  to  the  marsh  to  cut  a  reed  fit  for 
being  made  into  an  arrow,  and  when  in  doing  so  he  cuts  them 

*  "  Conservation  of  Energy,"  p.  135. 


05  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

of  the  proper  length  by  measuring  them  with  the  bows  and 
arrows  which  he  already  has,  in  this  simple  operation  he  is  act- 
ing on  the  abstract  and  most  fruitful  truth  that  "  things  equal 
to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  one  another."  This  is  one  of 
the  axioms  which  lie  at  the  basis  of  all  mathematical  demon- 
stration. But  as  a  general,  universal,  and  necessary  truth  the 
Savage  knows  nothing  of  it — as  little  as  he  knows  of  the  won- 
derful consequences  to  which  it  will  some  day  lead  his  children 
or  descendants.  So  in  like  manner  when  the  Savage  designs, 
as  he  often  does,  most  ingenious  traps  for  the  capture  of  his 
prey,  and  so  baits  them  as  to  attract  the  animals  he  desires  to 
catch,  he  is  counting  first  on  the  constancy  and  uniformity  of 
Physical  Causation,  and,  secondly,  on  the  profoundly  different 
action  of  the  motives  which  determine  the  conduct  of  creatures 
having  Life  and  Will.  But  of  neither  of  these  as  general  truths 
does  he  know  anything ;  and  of  one  of  them,  at  least,  not  even 
the  greatest  philosophers  have  reached  the  full  depth  or  mean- 
ing. Nevertheless,  it  would  be  a  great  error  to  suppose  that 
the  Savage,  because  he  has  no  conception  of  the  general  truth 
involved  in  his  conduct,  has  been  guided  in  that  conduct  by 
anything  in  the  nature  of  chance  or  accident.  His  intuitions 
have  been  right,  and  have  involved  so  much  perception  of  truth 
as  is  necessary  to  carry  him  along  the  little  way  he  requires  to 
travel,  because  the  Mind  in  which  those  intuitions  lie  is  a  prod- 
uct and  a  part  of  Nature — a  product  and  part  of  that  great 
System  of  things  which  is  held  together  by  laws  intelligible  to 
Mind — laws  which  the  human  mind  has  been  constructed  to  feel 
even  when  it  cannot  clearly  see.  Moreover,  when  these  laws 
come  to  be  clearly  seen,  they  are  seen  only  because  the  Mind 
has  Organs  adjusted  to  the  perception  of  them,  and  because  it 
finds  in  its  own  mechanism  corresponding  sequences  of  thought. 
It  was  the  work  of  a  great  German  metaphysician  towards 
the  close  of  the  last  century  to  discriminate  and  define  more 
systematically  than  had  been  done  before  some  at  least  of  those 
higher  elements  of  thought  which,  over  and  above  the  mere 
perception  of  external  things,  the  Mind  thus  contributes  out  of 
its  own  structure  to  the  fabric  of  knowledge.  In  doing  this  he 
did  immortal  service — proving  that  when  men  talked  of  "ex- 
perience "  being  the  only  source  of  knowledge,  they  forgot  that 


THE   LIMITS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  89 

the  whole  process  of  experience  presupposes  the  action  of  innate 
laws  of  thought,  without  which  experience  can  neither  gather 
its  facts  nor  reach  their  interpretation.  "  Experience,"  as  Kant 
most  truly  said,  is  nothing  but  a  "  synthesis  of  Intuitions  " — a 
building  up  or  putting  together  of  conceptions  which  the  access 
of  external  Nature  finds  ready  to  be  awakened  in  the  Mind. 
The  whole  of  this  building  process  is  determined  by  the  Mind's 
own  laws — a  process  in  which  even  observation  of  outward  fact 
must  take  its  place  according  to  those  principles  of  arrange- 
ment in  which  alone  all  explanation  of  them  consists,  and  out 
of  which  any  understanding  of  them  is  impossible. 

And  yet  this  great  fact  of  a  large  part  of  our  knowledge — 
and  that  the  most  important  part — coming  to  us  out  of  the  very 
furniture  and  constitution  of  the  Mind  itself,  has  been  so  ex- 
pressed and  presented  in  the  language  of  philosophy  as  rather 
to  undermine  than  to  establish  our  confidence  in  the  certainty 
of  knowledge.  For  if  the  Mind  is  so  spoken  of  and  represented 
as  to  suggest  the  idea  of  something  apart  from  the  general  Sys- 
tem of  Nature,  and  if  its  laws  of  thought  are  looked  upon  as 
"  forms  "  or  moulds  into  which,  by  some  artificial  arrangement 
or  by  some  mechanical  necessity,  everything  from  outside  must 
be  squeezed  and  made  to  fit — then  it  will  naturally  occur  to  us 
to  doubt  whether  conceptions  cut  out  and  manufactured  under 
such  conditions  can  be  any  trustworthy  representation  of  the 
truth.  Such,  unfortunately,  has  been  the  mode  of  representa- 
tion adopted  by  many  philosophers — and  such  accordingly  has 
been  the  result  of  their  teaching.  This  is  the  great  source  of 
error  in  every  form  of  the  Idealistic  philosophy,  but  it  is  a 
source  of  error  which  can  be  perfectly  eliminated,  leaving  un- 
touched and  undoubted  the  large  body  of  truths  which  has 
made  that  philosophy  attractive  to  so  many  powerful  minds. 
We  have  only  to  take  care  that  in  expressing  those  truths  we 
do  not  use  metaphors  which  are  misleading.  We  have  only  to 
remember  that  we  must  regard  the  Mind  and  the  laws  of  its 
operation  in  the  light  of  that  most  assured  truth — the  Unity  of 
Nature.  Then,  indeed,  we  shall  come  to  see  that  the  Mind  has 
no  "  moulds  "  which  have  not  themselves  been  moulded  on  the 
realities  of  the  Universe — no  "  forms  "  which  it  did  not  receive 
as  a  part  and  a  consequence  of  its  Unity  with  the  rest  of  Na- 


QO  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

ture.  Its  conceptions  are  not  manufactured ;  they  are  devel- 
oped. They  are  not  made  ;  they  simply  grow.  The  order  of 
chought  under  which  the  human  Mind  renders  intelligible  to  it- 
self all  the  phenomena  of  the  Universe,  is  not  an  order  which 
it  invents,  but  an  order  which  it  simply  feels  and  sees.  And 
this  "  vision  and  faculty  divine  "  is  a  necessary  consequence  of 
its  congenital  relations  with  the  whole  System  of  Nature — from 
being  bone  of  its  bone,  flesh  of  its  flesh — from  breathing  its  at- 
mosphere, from  living  in  its  light,  and  from  having  with  it  a 
thousand  points  of  contact  visible  and  invisible,  more  than  we 
can  number  or  understand. 

And  yet  so  subtle  are  the  suggestions  of  the  human  Spirit  in 
disparagement  of  its  own  powers — so  near  and  ever  present  to 
us  is  that  region  which  belongs  to  the  unsatisfied  Reserve  of 
Power — that  the  very  fact  of  our  knowledge  arising  out  of  our 
Organic  relations  with  the  rest  of  Nature  has  been  seized  upon 
as  only  casting  new  discredit  on  all  that  we  seem  to  know. 
Because  all  our  knowledge  arises  out  of  these  relations,  there- 
fore, it  is  said,  all  our  knowledge  of  things  must  be  itself  "rel- 
ative ;  "  and  relative  knowledge  is  not  knowledge  of  "  things  in 
themselves."  Such  is  the  argument  of  metaphysicians — an  ar- 
gument repeated  with  singular  unanimity  by  philosophers  of 
almost  every  school  of  thought.  By  some  it  has  been  made  the 
basis  of  religious  proof.  By  some  it  has  been  made  the  basis 
of  a  reasoned  scepticism.  By  others  it  has  been  used  simply 
to  foil  attacks  upon  belief.  The  real  truth  is  that  it  is  an  argu- 
ment useless  for  any  purpose  whatever,  because  it  is  not  itself 
true.  The  distinction  between  knowledge  of  things  in  their  re- 
lations, and  knowledge  of  things  "  in  themselves,"  is  a  distinc- 
tion without  a  meaning.  In  metaphysics  the  assertion  that  we 
can  never  attain  to  any  knowledge  of  things  "  in  themselves  " 
does  not  mean  simply  that  we  know  things  only  in  a  few  rela- 
tions out  of  many.  It  does  not  mean  even  that  there  may  be 
and  probably  are  a  great  many  relations  which  we  have  not 
faculties  enabling  us  to  conceive.  All  this  is  quite  true,  and  a 
most  important  truth.  But  the  metaphysical  distinction  is  quite 
different.  It  affirms  that  if  we  knew  things  in  every  one  of  the 
relations  that  affect  them,  we  should  still  be  no  nearer  than  be- 
fore to  a  knowledge  of  "  things  in  themselves."  "  It  is  proper 


THE    LIMITS    OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  91 

to  observe,"  says  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  "  that  had  we  faculties 
equal  in  number  to  all  the  possible  modes  of  existence,  whether 
of  Mind  or  Matter,  still  would  our  knowledge  of  Mind  or  Mat- 
ter be  only  relative.  If  material  existence  could  exhibit  ten 
thousand  phenomena — if  we  possessed  ten  thousand  senses  to 
apprehend  these  ten  thousand  phenomena  of  material  exist- 
ence, of  existence  absolutely  and  in  itself,  we  should  then  be 
as  ignorant  as  we  are  at  present."  *  The  conception  here  is 
that  there  is  something  to  be  known  about  things  in  which  they 
are  not  presented  as  in  any  relation  to  anything  else.  It  af- 
firms that  there  are  certain  ultimate  entities  in  Nature  to  which 
all  phenomena  are  due,  and  yet  which  can  be  thought  of  as 
having  no  relation  to  these  phenomena,  or  to  ourselves,  or  to 
any  other  existence  whatever. 

Now,  as  the  very  idea  of  knowledge  consists  in  the  percep- 
tion of  relations,  this  affirmation  is,  in  the  purest  sense  of  the 
word,  nonsense — that  is  to  say,  it  is  a  series  of  words  which 
have  either  no  meaning  at  all  or  a  meaning  which  is  self-con- 
tradictory. It  belongs  to  the  class  of  propositions  which  throw 
just  discredit  on  metaphysics — mere  verbal  propositions,  pre- 
tending to  deal  with  conceptions  which  are  no  conceptions  at 
all,  but  empty  sounds.  The  "unconditioned,"  we  are  told,  "is 
unthinkable  : "  but  words  which  are  unthinkable  had  better  be 
also  unspeakable,  or  at  least  unspoken.  It  is  altogether  un- 
true that  we  are  compelled  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  any- 
thing which  is  "  unconditioned  " — in  Matter  with  no  qualities — 
in  Minds  with  no  character — in  a  God  with  no  attributes. 
Even  the  metaphysicians  who  dwell  on  this  distinction  between 
the  Relative  and  the  Unconditioned  admit  that  it  is  one  to  which 
no  idea  can  be  attached.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this  admission,  they 
proceed  to  found  many  inferences  upon  it,  as  if  it  had  an  intel- 
ligible meaning.  Those  who  have  not  been  accustomed  to 
metaphysical  literature  could  hardly  believe  the  flagrant  un- 
reason which  is  common  on  this  subject.  It  cannot  be  better 
illustrated  than  by  quoting  the  words  in  which  this  favorite  doc- 
trine is  expressed  by  Sir  William  Hamilton.  Speaking  of  our 
knowledge  of  Matter  he  says :  "  It  is  a  name  for  something 
known — for  that  which  appears  to  us  under  the  forms  of  e.xten- 

*  "  Lectures,"  vol.  i.  p.  145. 


92  THE   UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

sion,  solidity,  divisibility,  figure,  motion,  roughness,  smooth- 
ness,  color,  heat,  cold,"  etc.  "  But,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "  as 
these  phenomena  appear  only  in  conjunction,  we  are  compelled 
by  the  constitution  of  our  nature  to  think  them  conjoined  in 
and  by  something;  and  as  they  are  phenomena,  we  cannot 
think  them  the  phenomena  of  nothing,  but  must  regard  them  as 
the  properties  or  qualities  of-  something  that  is  extended,  fig- 
ured, etc.  But  this  something,  absolutely  and  in  itself — i.e., 
considered  apart  from  its  phenomena — is  to  us  as  Zero.  It  is 
only  in  its  qualities,  only  in  its  effects,  in  its  relative  or  phenom- 
enal existence,  that  it  is  cognizable  or  conceivable  ;  and  it  is 
only  by  a  law  of  thought  which  compels  us  to  think  something 
absolute  and  unknown,  as  the  basis  or  condition  of  the  rela- 
tive and  known,  that  this  something  obtains  a  kind  of  incom- 
prehensible reality  to  us."  The  argument  here  is  that  because 
phenomena  are  and  must  be  the  "  properties  or  qualities  of 
something  else,"  therefore  we  are  "  compelled  to  think "  of 
that  something  as  having  an  existence  separable  from  any  re- 
lation to  its  own  qualities  and  properties,  and  that  this  some- 
thing acquires  from  this  reasoning  a  "  kind  of  incomprehensi- 
ble reality !  "  The  answer  to  all  this  is — there  is  no  such  law 
of  thought.  There  is  no  such  necessity  of  thinking  nonsense 
as  is  here  alleged.  All  that  we  are  compelled  to  think  is  that 
the  ultimate  constitution  of  Matter,  and  the  ultimate  source  of 
its  relations  to  our  own  Organism,  are  unknown,  and  are  prob- 
ably inaccessible  to  us.  But  this  is  a  very  different  concep- 
tion from  that  which  affirms  that  if  we  did  know  or  could 
know  these  ultimate  truths  we  should  find  in  them  anything 
standing  absolutely  alone  and  unrelated  to  other  existences  in 
the  Universe. 

It  is,  however,  so  important  that  we  should  define  to  our- 
selves as  clearly  as  we  can  the  nature  of  the  limitations  which 
affect  our  knowledge,  and  the  real  inferences  which  are  to 
be  derived  from  the  consciousness  we  have  of  them,  that  it 
may  be  well  to  examine  these  dicta  of  metaphysicians  in  the 
light  of  specific  instances.  It  becomes  all  the  more  important 
to  do  so  when  we  observe  that  the  language  in  which  these 
dicta  are  expressed  generally  implies  that  knowledge  which  is 
"  only  relative "  is  less  genuine  or  less  absolutely  true  than 


THE    LIMITS    OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  93 

some  other  kind  of  knowledge  which  is  not  explained,  except 
that  it  must  be  knowledge  of  that  which  has  no  relation  to  the 
Mind. 

There  is  a  sense  (and  it  is  the  only  sense  in  which  the  words 
have  any  meaning)  in  which  we  are  all  accustomed  to  say  that 
we  know  a  thing  "  in  itself,"  when  we  have  found  out,  for  ex- 
ample, its  origin,  or  its  structure,  or  its  chemical  composition, 
as  distinguished  from  its  more  superficial  aspects.  If  a  new 
substance  were  offered  to  us  as  food,  and  if  we  examined  its 
appearance  to  the  eye,  and  felt  its  consistency  to  the  touch, 
and  smelt  its  odor,  and  finally  tasted  it,  we  should  then  know 
as  much  about  it  as  these  various  senses  could  tell  us.  Other 
senses,  or  other  forms  of  sensation,  might  soon  add  their  own 
several  contributions  to  our  knowledge,  and  we  might  discover 
that  this  substance  had  deleterious  effects  upon  the  human  Or- 
ganism. This  would  be  knowing,  perhaps,  by  far  the  most  im- 
portant things  that  are  to  be  known  about  it.  But  we  should 
certainly  like  to  know  more,  and  we  should  probably  consider 
that  we  had  found  out  what  it  was  "  in  itself,"  when  we  had 
discovered  farther,  for  example,  that  it  was  the  fruit  of  a  tree. 
Chemistry  might  next  inform  us  of  the  analysis  of  the  fruit,  and 
might  exhibit  some  alkaloid  to  which  its  peculiar  properties  and 
its  peculiar  effects  upon  the  body  are  due.  This,  again,  we 
should  certainly  consider  as  knowing  what  it  is  "in  itself." 
But  other  questions  respecting  it  would  remain  behind.  How 
the  tree  can  extract  this  alkaloid  from  the  inorganic  elements 
of  the  soil,  and  how,  when  so  extracted,  it  should  have  such 
and  such  peculiar  effects  upon  the  animal  body ;  these,  and 
similar  questions,  we  may  ask,  and  probably  we  shall  ask  in 
vain.  But  there  is  nothing  in  the  inaccessibility  of  this  knowl- 
edge to  .suggest  that  we  are  absolutely  incapable  of  understand- 
ing the  answer  if  it  were  explained  to  us.  On  the  contrary,  the 
disposition  we  have  to  put  such  questions  raises  a  strong  pre- 
sumption that  the  answer  would  be  one  capable  of  that  assimi- 
lation by  our  intellectual  nature  in  which  all  understanding  of 
anything  consists.  There  is  nothing  in  the  series  of  phenom- 
ena which  this  substance  has  exhibited  to  us — nothing  in  the 
questions  which  they  raise  which  can  even  suggest  the  idea 
that  all  these  relations  which  we  have  traced,  or  any  other* 


94  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

which  may  remain  behind,  are  the  result  of  something  which 
can  be  thought  of  or  conceived  as  neither  a  cause  nor  a  conse- 
quence— but  solitary  and  unrelated.  On  the  contrary,  all  that 
remains  unexplained  is  the  nature  and  cause  of  its  relations — 
its  relations  on  the  one  hand  to  the  elements  out  of  which  vev- 

o 

etable  Vitality  has  combined  it,  and  its  relations  on  the  other 
hand  to  the  still  higher  Vitality  which  it  threatens  to  destroy. 
Its  place  in  the  Unity  of  Nature  is  the  ultimate  object  of  our 
search,  and  this  unity  is  essentially  a  unity  of  relations,  and  of 
nothing  else.  That  Unity  everywhere  proclaims  the  truth  that 
there  is  nothing  in  the  wide  Universe  which  stands  unrelated 
to  the  rest. 

Let  us  take  another  example.  Until  modern  science  had 
established  its  methods  of  physical  investigation,  Light  and 
Sound  were  known  as  sensations  only.  That  is  to  say  they 
were  known  in  terms  of  the  mental  impressions  which  they 
immediately  produce  upon  us,  and  in  no  other  terms  whatever. 
There  was  no  proof  that  in  these  sensations  we  had  any  knowl- 
edge "  in  themselves  "  of  the  external  agencies  which  produce 
them.  But  now  all  this  is  changed.  Science  has  discovered 
what  these  two  agencies  are  "  in  themselves  ;  " — that  is  to  say, 
it  has  defined  them  under  aspects  which  are  totally  distinct 
from  seeing  or  hearing,  and  is  able  to  describe  them  in  terms 
addressed  to  wholly  different  faculties  of  conception.  Both 
Light  and  Sound  are  in  the  nature  of  undulatory  movements 
In  elastic  media — to  which  undulations  our  Organs  of  sight  and 
hearing  are  respectively  adjusted  or  "attuned."  In  these 
Organs,  by  virtue  of  that  adjustment  or  attuning,  these  same 
undulations  are  "  translated  "  into  the  sensations  which  we 
know.  It  thus  appears  that  the  facts  as  described  to  us  in  this 
language  of  sensation  are  the  true  equivalent  of  the  facts  as 
described  in  the  very  different  language  of  intellectual  analysis. 
The  eye  is  now  understood  to  be  an  Apparatus  for  enabling  the 
Mind  instantaneously  to  appreciate  differences  of  motion  which 
are  of  almost  inconceivable  minuteness.  The  pleasure  we  de- 
rive from  the  harmonies  of  color  and  of  sound,  although  mere 
sensations,  do  correctly  represent  the  movement  of  undulations 
in  a  definite  order ;  whilst  those  other  sensations  which  we 


THE   LIMITS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  95 

know  as  discords  represent  the  actual  clashing  and  disorder  of 
interfering  waves. 

Thus  it  is  that  in  breathing  the  healthy  air  of  physical  dis- 
coveries such  as  these,  although  the  limitations  of  our  knowl- 
edge continually  haunt  us,  we  gain  nevertheless  a  triumphant 
sense  of  its  certainty  and  of  its  truth.  Not  only  are  the  mental 
impressions  which  our  Organs  have  been  so  constructed  as  to 
convey,  proved  to  be  a  true  interpretation  of  external  facts,  but 
the  conclusions  we  draw  as  to  their  origin  and  their  source, 
and  as  to  the  guarantee  we  have  for  the  accuracy  of  our  concep- 
tions, are  placed  on  the  firmest  of  all  foundations.  The  mirror 
into  which  we  look  is  a  true  mirror,  reflecting  accurately  and 
with  infinite  fineness  the  realities  of  Nature.  And  this  great 
lesson  is  being  repeated  in  every  new  discovery,  and  in  every 
new  application  of  an  old  one.  Every  reduction  of  phenom- 
ena to  ascertained  measures  of  force;  every  application  of 
mathematical  proof  to  theoretical  conceptions  ;  every  detection 
of  identical  operations  in  diverse  departments  of  Nature  ;  every 
subjection  of  material  agencies  to  the  service  of  Mankind; 
every  confirmation  of  knowledge  acquired  through  one  sense 
by  the  evidence  of  another ; — each  and  all  of  these  operations 
add  to  the  verifications  of  science,  confirm  our  reasonable  trust 
in  the  faculties  we  possess,  and  assure  us  that  the  knowledge 
we  acquire  by  the  careful  use  of  these  is  a  real  and  substantial 
knowledge  of  the  truth. 

If  now  we  examine  the  kind  of  knowledge  respecting  Light 
and  Sound  which  recent  discoveries  have  revealed  to  us,  as 
compared  with  the  knowledge  which  we  had  of  them  before  these 
discoveries  were  made,  we  shall  find  that  there  is  an  important 
difference.  The  knowledge  which  we  had  before  was  the  simple 
and  elementary  knowledge  of  Sensation.  As  compared  with 
that  knowledge  the  new  knowledge  we  have  acquired  respecting 
Light  and  Sound  is  a  knowledge  of  these  things  "  in  themselves." 
Such  is  the  language  in  which  we  should  naturally  express  our 
sense  of  that  difference,  and  in  so  expressing  it  we  should  be 
expressing  an  important  truth.  The  newer  knowledge  is  a 
higher  knowledge  than  the  older  and  simpler  knowledge  which 
we  had  before.  And  why  ?  Wherein  does  this  higher  quality 
of  the  new  knowledge  consist  ?  Is  it  not  in  the  very  fact  that 


96  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

the  new  knowledge  is  the  perception  of  a  higher  kind  of  rela- 
tion than  that  which  we  had  perceived  before  ?  There  is  no 
difference  between  the  two  kinds  of  knowledge  in  respect  to 
the  mere  abstract  character  of  relativity.  The  old  was  as  rel- 
ative as  the  new  ;  and  the  new  is  as  relative  as  the  old.  Be- 
fore the  new  discoveries,  Sound  was  known  to  come  from  son- 
orous bodies,  and  Light  was  known  to  come  from  luminous  bod- 
ies. This  was  a  relation — but  a  relation  of  the  vaguest  and 
most  general  kind.  As  compared  with  this  vague  relation,  the 
new  relation  under  which  we  know  them  is  knowledge  of  a  more 
definite  and  of  a  higher  kind.  Light  and  Sound  we  now  know 
to  be  words  or  ideas  representing  not  merely  any  one  thing  or 
any  two  things,  but  especially  a  relation  of  Adjustment  between 
a  number  of  things.  In  this  Adjustment  Light  and  Sound,  as 
known  to  Sense,  do  "•  in  themselves  "  consist.  Sound  becomes 
known  to  us  as  the  attunement  between  certain  aerial  pulsations 
and  the  auditory  apparatus.  Light  becomes  known  to  us  as  a 
similar  or  analogous  attunement  between  the  ethereal  pulsa- 
tions and  the  optic  apparatus.  Sound  in  this  sense  is  not  the 
aerial  waves  "  in  themselves,"  but  in  their  relation  to  the  ear. 
Light  is  not  the  ethereal  undulations  "  in  themselves,"  but  in 
their  relation  to  the  eye.  It  is  only  when  these  come  into  con- 
tact with  a  pre-arranged  machinery  that  they  become  what  we 
know  and  speak  of  as  Light  and  Sound.  This  conception, 
therefore,  is  found  to  represent  and  express  a  pure  relation  ;  and 
it  is  a  conception  higher  than  the  one  we  had  before,  not  be- 
cause it  is  either  less  or  more  relative,  but  because  its  relativity 
is  to  a  higher  faculty  of  the  intellect  or  the  understanding. 

And,  indeed,  when  we  come  to  think  of  it,  we  see  that  all 
kinds  of  knowledge  must  take  their  place  and  rank  according  to 
this  order  of  precedence.  For  as  all  knowledge  consists  in  the 
establishment  of  relations  between  external  facts  and  the 
various  Faculties  of  the  Mind,  the  highest  knowledge  must  al- 
ways be  that  in  which  such  relations  are  established  with  those 
intellectual  powers  which  are  of  the  highest  kind.  Hence  we 
have  a  strictly  scientific  basis  of  classification  for  arranging  the 
three  great  subjects  of  all  human  inquiry — the  What,  the  How, 
and  the  Why.  These  are  steps  in  an  ascending  series.  What 
things  are — How  they  come  to  be — and  what  Purpose  they 


THE   LIMITS   OF   HUMAN   KNOWLEDGE.  y-f 

serve  in  the  whole  system  of  Nature — these  are  the  questions, 
each  rising  above  the  other,  which  correspond  to  the  order  and 
the  rank  of  our  own  faculties  in  the  value  and  importance  of 
their  work. 

It  is  the  result  of  this  analysis  to  establish  that,  even  if  it  were 
true  that  there  could  be  anything  in  the  Universe  existing  out 
of  relation  with  other  things  around  it,  or  if  it  were  conceivable 
that  there  could  be  any  knowledge  of  things  as  they  so  exist,  it 
would  be  not  higher  knowledge,  but  infinitely  lower  knowledge 
than  that  which  we  actually  possess.  It  could  at  the  best  be 
only  knowledge  of  the  "  What,"  and  that  too  in  the  lowest  con- 
ceivable form — knowledge  of  the  barest,  driest,  nakedest  exist 
ence,  without  value  or  significance  of  any  kind.  And  further, 
it  results  from  the  same  analysis  that  the  relativity  of  human 
knowledge,  instead  of  casting  any  doubt  upon  its  authenticity, 
is  the  very  characteristic  which  guarantees  its  reality  and  its 
truth.  It  results  farther  that  the  depth  and  completeness  of 
that  knowledge  depends  on  the  degree  in  which  it  brings  the 
facts  of  Nature  into  relation  with  the  Faculties  which  are  high- 
est in  the  scale  of  Mind. 

Nor  is  this  result  surprising.  It  must  be  so  if  Man  is  part 
of  the  great  System  of  things  in  which  he  lives.  It  must  be  so, 
especially  if  in  being  part  of  it,  he  is  also  the  highest  visible  part 
of  it — the  product  of  its  "  laws  "  and  (as  regards  his  own  little 
corner  of  the  Universe)  the  consummation  of  its  history. 

Neither  can  there  be  any  doubt  as  to  what  are  the  supreme 
Faculties  of  the  human  Mind.  They  are  the  Faculties  which 
are  concerned  with  Purpose — purpose  in  other  minds,  and  pur- 
pose in  our  own.  All  others  are  the  instruments  and  subor- 
dinates of  these.  The  power  of  initiating  changes  in  the  Order 
of  Nature,  and  of  shaping  them  by  the  highest  motives  to  the 
noblest  ends — this,  in  general  terms,  may  be  said  to  include  or 
to  involve  them  all.  They  are  based  upon  the  ultimate  and  ir- 
resolvable power  of  Will,  with  that  measure  of  freedom  which 
belongs  to  it ;  upon  the  faculty  of  understanding  the  use  of  means 
to  ends,  and  upon  the  Moral  Sense  which  recognizes  the  law  of 
Righteousness,  and  the  ultimate  Authority  on  which  it  rests. 
If  the  Universe  or  any  part  of  it  is  ever  to  be  really  understood 
by  us — if  anything  in  the  nature  of  an  explanation  is  ever  to  be 

7  .r=Ci- 


98  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

reached  concerning  the  System  of  things  in  which  we  live,  these 
are  the  perceptive  powers  to  which  the  information  must  be 
given — these  are  the  faculties  to  which  the  explanation  must  be 
addressed.  When  we  desire  to  know  the  nature  of  things  "  in 
themselves,"  we  desire  to  know  the  highest  of  their  relations 
which  are  conceivable  to  us  :  we  desire,  in  the  words  of  Bishop 
Butler,  to  know  "  the  Author,  the  cause,  and  the  end  of  them."  •• 

*  Sermon  u  On  the  Ignorance  of  Man." 


^ 


7^<  ^r  T^' 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON  THE  TRUTHFULNESS  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE. 

BUT  another  nightmare  meets  us  here — another  suggestion  of 
hopeless  doubt  respecting  the  very  possibility  of  knowledge 
touching  questions  such  as  these.  Nay,  it  is  the  suggestion  of  a 
doubt  even  more  discouraging — for  it  is  a  suggestion  that  these 
questions  may  probably  be  in  themselves  absurd — assuming  the 
existence  of  relations  among  things  which  do  not  exist  at  all — 
relations  indeed  of  which  we  have  some  experience  in  ourselves, 
but  which  have  no  counterpart  in  the  System  of  Nature.  The 
suggestion,  in  short,  is  not  merely  that  the  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions is  inaccessible,  but  that  there  is  no  answer  at  all.  The  ob- 
jection is  a  fundamental  one,  and  is  summed  up  in  the  epithet 
applied  to  all  such  inquiries — that  they  are  "  Anthropomorphic.'^ 
They  assume  Authorship  in  a  personal  sense,  which  is  a  purely 
human  idea — they  assume  causation,  which  is  another  human 
idea — and  they  assume  the  use  of  means  for  the  attainment  of 
ends,  which  also  is  purely  human.  (It  is  considered  by  some 
persons  as  a  thing  in  itself  absurd  that  we  should  thus  shape  our 
conceptions  of  the  ruling  Power  in  Nature,  or  of  a  Divine  Being, 
upon  the  conscious  knowledge  we  have  of  our  own  nature  and 
attributes.}  Anthropomorphism  is  the  phrase  employed  to  con- 
demn this  method  of  conception — an  opprobrious  epithet,  as  it 
were,  which  is  attached  to  every  endeavor  to  bring  the  higher, 
attributes  of  the  human  Mind  into  any  recognizable  relation 
with  the  supreme  agencies  in  Nature. 

And  here  it  is  not  unimportant  to  observe  that  the  word  is  in 
itself  a  misrepresentation  of  the  fundamental  idea  which  it  is  em- 
ployed to  designate,  and  against  which  it  is  intended  to  raise  a 
prejudice.  Anthropomorphism  means  literally  Man-Formismt 
conveying  the  idea  that  it  is,  in  some  sense  or  other,  the  human 
"  Form  "  that  is  ascribed  to  the  agencies  which  are  at  work  in 


100  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

Nature.*  But  this  suggestion  is  altogether  at  variance  with  the 
truth.  It  is  not  the  Form  of  Man  that  is  in  question.  It  is  the 
Mind  and  Spirit  of  Man — his  Reason,  his  Intelligence,  and  his 
Will.  Nor  is  it  even  these  under  all  the  conditions,  or  under 
any'  of  the  limitations,  with  which  they  are  associated  in  us. 
But  the  question  is  of  a  real  and  'undamental  analogy,  despite 
all  differences  of  form  or  of  limiting  conditions,  between  the 
Mind  which  is  in  us  and  the  Mind  which  is  in  Nature.  The 
true  etymological  expression  for  this  idea,  if  we  are  to  have  any 
word  constructed  on  the  same  model  out  of  Greek,  would  be, 
not  Anthropomorphism,  but  Anthropopsychism,  which  means 
not  Man-Formism,  but  Man-Soulism.  The  use  of  the  word  in 
this  construction  would  raise  much  more  truly  the  real  issue. 
I  shall  therefore  adopt  it  as  a  substitute  in  the  argument  which 
follows. 

The  central  idea  of  those  who  object  to  Anthropopsychism 
seems  to  be  that  there  is  nothing  human  in  Nature,  whether  as 
regards  its  materials,  or  as  regards  any  agency  which  controls 
them,  and  that  when  we  think  we  see  any  such  agency  there,  we 
are  like  some  foolish  Beast  wondering  at  its  own  shadow.  The 
proposition  which  is  really  involved  when  stated  nakedly  is  this  : 
that  there  is  no  Mind  in  Nature  having  any  relation  with,  or 
similitude  to,  our  own,  and  that  all  our  fancied  recognitions  of 
intellectual  operations  like  those  of  Man  in  the  Order  of  the 
Universe  are  delusive  imaginations.  If  this  proposition  could 
be  maintained,  much  indeed  would  follow  from  it.  All  confi- 
dence would  be  lost,  not  in  one  department  only,  but  in  every 
department  of  human  thought  and  of  human  knowledge.  That 
knowledge  would  come  to  us  tainted  at  its  very  source. 

At  first  sight  it  might  appear  as  if  all  reasoning  on  the  truth- 
fulness of  human  knowledge  must  be  reasoning  in  a  circle. 
And  so  it  would  be  if  Reason  were  set  to  the  task  of  proving 

*  It  has  been  pointed  out  to  me  by  my  distinguished  friend  and  old  tutor,  Dr. 
Howson,  the  Dean  of  Chester,  that  the  Greek  word  poptfi  C'  Form  ")  had  a  very  wide 
range  of  meaning,  and  that  (for  example)  in  the  New  Testament  it  is  applied  to  "  the 
form  of  knowledge  and  of  the  truth  "  (Rom.  ii.  20),  and  to  the  "  form  of  godliness  " 
(2  Tim.  iii.  5),  and  to  spiritual  things  in  other  passages.  But  although  this  is  true,  the 
word  "  Anthropomorphism  "  seems  to  have  been  introduced  in  connection  with  the 
Greek  habit  of  representing  the  Divine  Personages  of  their  mythology  in  the  physical 
form  of  Humanity ;  and  it  now  always  conveys  a  certain  flavor  of  disparagement 
from  Us  association  with  this  materialistic  habit  and  conception. 


ON   THE   TRUTHFULNESS   CP' JiC&fAti''  RNOWhEbGE.          101 


the  trustworthiness  of  itself^  ^  Bdt  Ihe  a:rust%6Tthm6&s' "of  our 
kuowledge  does  not  depend  alone  on  the  trustworthiness  of  our 
Reason.  Our  knowledge  has  other  elements  in  it  than  the 
work  of  Reason.  The  operations  of  the  Logical  Faculty  may 
have  our  absolute  confidence,  and  yet  the  results  arrived  at  may 
be  full  of  doubt.  The  possibility  of  this  doubt  arises  not  from 
any  distrust  of  Reason,  but  from  a  distrust  of  the  data  which 
are  supplied  to  Reason,  and  on  which  it  is  compelled  to  per- 
form its  appropriate  work.  That  work  may  be  performed  with 
perfect  accuracy,  and  it  may  be  even  inconceivable  that  it 
should  be  otherwise,  and  yet  the  conclusions  to  which  such 
reasoning  leads  may  be  entirely  false.  This  possibility  arises 
from  the  possibility  of  Reason  starting  with  assumptions  which 
are  erroneous.  The  machinery  of  a  loom  may  be  in  perfect 
order,  and  all  its  movements  may  be  in  accurate  adjustment ; 
but  if  the  thread  supplied  to  it  is  bad,  the  web  will  be  as  un- 
sound as  its  material.  And  so  it  is  with  the  tissue  of  our 
knowledge.  It  is  indeed  useless  to  argue  that  Reason  may  be 
trusted.  The  very  argument  assumes  the  trust.  But  it  is  by 
no  means  useless  to  argue  on  the  nature  and  on  the  sources  of 
the  data  with  which  our  reasoning  is  supplied.  Now  this  is  the 
very  region  in  which  the  doubt  of  Anthropopsychism  prevails, 
and  in  which  Reason  is  habitually  used  to  prove  that  all  the 
data  of  knowledge  are  inaccessible.  If  this  be  an  argument 
which  is  capable  of  defence,  it  must  also  be  an  argument  which 
is  open  to  reply.  It  is  an  argument  which  assumes  that  Reason 
can  do  something  in  testing  the  stuff  on  which  it  works.  And 
so  indeed  it  can.  There  is  no  substance  in  the  material  world 
the  strength  and  texture  of  which  can  be  tried  by  methods  so 
sure  and  so  various  as  the  methods  by  which  we  can  test  the 
conceptions  and  intimations  given  to  us  from  our  contact  with 
external  Nature.  The  senses  of  the  body,  fine  and  various  as 
they  are,  do  not  compare  in  number  or  in  fineness  with  the 
multiform  apparatus,  and  the  corresponding  multiform  opera- 
tions, by  which  the  Mind  can  try  and  verify  the  impressions  of 
its  own  Intelligence.  It  is  wonderful  from  how  many  indepen- 
dent points  of  view  we  can  stand,  as  it  were,  outside  ourselves, 
and  mark  those  infinite  and  subtle  coincidences  between 
Thought  and  Fact  which  establish  the  Unity  existing  between 


102  THE    t'XTlY-'OF    NATURE. 

all  our  -Vacuities  an.d  the:  great  System  which  it  is  their  business 
to  understand  and  to  interpret.  Let  us  ascend  to  some  of  these 
points  of  observation  now,  and  let  us  look  around  us  as  we  can. 

The  argument  which  the  word  Anthropopsychism  involves,  if 
it  be  an  argument, — or  the  suggestion  of  doubt,  if  it  be  nothing 
more, — is  only  another  form  of  the  doctrine  or  of  the  misgiving 
with  which  we  have  been  dealing  in  the  last  chapter.  It  as- 
sumes that  the  relation  between  the  human  Mind  and  the  Sys- 
tem of  Nature  in  which  we  live  is  fundamentally  a  relation  of 
contrast  and  not  of  harmony — a  relation  of  difference  so  deep 
and  so  complete,  that  the  intellectual  impressions  which  Nature 
gives  to  us  are  not  presumably  right,  but,  on  the  contrary,  are 
presumably  wrong.  The  analogies  which  we  see,  or  think  we 
see,  between  our  own  thoughts  and  the  processes  or  the  results 
of  Nature  are  not  real,  but  false  analogies.  There  are  no  such 
things  as  aims  in  Nature,  and  no  such  things  as  the  employ- 
ment of  means  for  the  attainment  of  them.  The  appearance 
of  any  such  connection  is  an  appearance  only.  It  is  a  mere 
human  aspect,  and  therefore  a  deceptive  aspect,  of  the  relation 
which  really  exists  in  Nature  between  the  things  which  we  see 
as  causes  and  the  things  which  follow  as  effects.  The  decep- 
tiveness  of  this  aspect  arises  out  of  the  very  fact  that  it  is 
human,  because  what  is  human  is  at  least  non-natural,  even  if 
it  be  not  positively  unnatural  and  necessarily  false.  Man  is  no 
part  of  Nature.  His  Mind  does  not  reflect  her  laws.  On  the 
contrary,  his  Intellect  is  separated  by  such  a  gulf  from  those 
laws,  that  it  tends  of  necessity  to  misinterpret  and  misconceive 
them.  The  very  forms  in  which  our  perceptions  and  our  con- 
ceptions are  moulded  are  forms  which  have  no  counterpart 
outside  the  Organism  through  which  we  see  and  think. 

All  this  is  the  same  general  idea  and  the  same  line  of  argu- 
ment with  which  we  have  been  dealing  throughout  the  whole  of 
this  Work,  and  which  the  facts  we  have  examined  have  shown 
to  be  in  every  way  at  variance  with  the  most  certain  truths. 
But  every  form  in  which  this  idea  can  be  presented  deserves  the 
most  patient  investigation,  both  because  of  the  power  of  the 
error  it  involves,  and  especially  because  of  the  subtlety  of  the 
suggestions  from  which  it  springs.  The  subtlety  of  these  sug- 
gestions lies  in  the  close  intermixture  of  what  is  true  with  what 


ON  THE  TRUTHFULNESS   OF   HUMAN   KNOWLEDGE.          103 

is  false.  From  the  beginning  of  this  Essay  I  have  protested 
against  all  conceptions  of  the  Unity  of  Nature  which  depend 
on  confounding  her  distinctions,  or  on  concealing  them,  or  in 
any  way  failing  to  give  them  their  fullest  value.  I  have  dwelt, 
also,  both  here  and  elsewhere,  on  the  respect  we  ought  to  pay 
in  this  matter  to  the  evidence  afforded  by  the  ordinary  use  of 
Language — that  great  mine  and  record  of  intellectual  impres- 
sions, in  which  men,  very  often  unconsciously,  keep  alive  the 
sense  and  the  memory  of  distinctions  which  philosophers  forget, 
or  which  sometimes  they  intentionally  conceal.  Now  in  the 
profound  questions  which  are  before  us  here,  this  unconscious 
evidence  of  Language  has  a  good  deal  to  say.  It  cannot  be 
denied  that  in  common  speech  we  do  habitually  recognize  a 
distinction  between  Man  and  Nature.  Upon  that  distinction, 
whatever  it  may  be,  there  are  some  schools  of  thought  which 
place  the  highest  value.  They  say — and  they  say  with  truth 
— that  we  must  keep  up  our  perception  of  real  distinctions,  if 
we  desire  to  keep  any  secure  foundation  for  our  perception  of 
true  analogies.  If  we  are  to  recognize  anywhere  with  certainty 
the  phenomena  of  Mind  and  Will,  we  must  hold  firmly  to  the 
distinctions  which  separate  them  from  the  phenomena  of  mere 
Physical  Causation,  and  of  Mechanical  Necessity. 

Agreeing  altogether  in  this  great  fundamental  principle  of 
all  knowledge,  I  admit  the  value  of  the  instinctive  perception 
which  is  reflected  in  common  speech  touching  the  differences 
between  Man  and  Nature.  But  in  order  to  estimate  what  that 
value  really  is,  we  must  observe  carefully  the  whole,  and  not  a 
part  only,  of  the  evidence  which  common  speech  affords.  We 
shall  then  find  that  in  that  speech  there  is  an  universal  recog- 
nition of  certain  aspects  of  the  relation  between  Man  and  Na- 
ture, in  which  the  distinction  between  them  dissolves  and  dis- 
appears. And  these  aspects  are  not  rare  or  abstract,  but 
familiar  and  continually  present.  We  none  of  us,  for  example, 
ever  think  or  speak  of  our  own  bodies  as  belonging  to  any 
other  domain  than  the  domain  of  Nature.  Not  only  in  their 
materials,  but  in  the  combination  of  them — in  all  the  phenom- 
ena of  birth,  and  growth — of  disease,  decay,  and  death — our 
bodies  are  part  of  Nature  and  are  obedient  to  her  most  ordinary 
laws.  The  distinction,  therefore,  between  Man  and  Nature  is 


104  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

confessedly  a  distinction  which  must  cut  Man  himself  in  two. 
It  must  separate  his  body  from  its  functions — his  hands  from 
the  work  which  they  perform — his  brain  from  the  reasoning 
powers  of  which  it  is  the  Organ  and  the  seat. 

Beyond  all  doubt  there  is  a  distinction  here,  and  a  profound 
one,  too.  But  it  is  no  other  than  the  old  familiar  distinction 
between  Mind  and  Matter  ;  and  the  line  which  divides  Mind 
from  Matter  is  certainly  not  coincident  with  the  line  which  di- 
vides Man  from  Nature.  For  just  as  the  dividing  line  between 
Mind  and  Matter  is  a  line  which  cuts  Man  himself  into  two 
parts,  so  also  is  it  a  line  which  cuts  into  two  parts  not  Man 
only,  but  the  whole  Natural  System  of  things  in  which  he  lives. 
For  that  System  which  we  call  Nature  does  not  consist  only  in 
its  body  of  raw  materials  and  of  elementary  forces.  It  consists 
even  more  essentially  in  the  arrangement  and  organization  of 
these  for  ends  which  are  intelligible  as  such.  The  phenomena 
of  Mind  are  not  confined  to  Man.  They  are  manifested,  in 
the  first  place,  visibly  and  directly,  although  in  varying  degrees, 
throughout  the  whole  series  of  living  animals.  They  are  mani- 
fested, in  the  second  place,  as  obviously,  though  less  directly, 
in  the  innumerable  adaptations  of  which  these  animals  are  the 
most  conspicuous  examples.  The  recognition  of  both  these 
facts  in  common  speech  is  instinctive,  universal,  and  conclusive. 
We  speak,  of  course,  habitually  of  the  aims  of  the  lower  ani- 
mals, and  of  their  contrivances  to  attain  them  ;  we  speak  not 
less  habitually  of  the  far  more  subtle  and  elaborate  contriv- 
ances by  which  in  virtue  of  their  Organization  they  are  them- 
selves enabled  first  to  have  these  aims,  and  then  to  reach  them. 
When,  therefore,  all  these  interpretations  of  Nature,  equally 
common  and  instinctive,  are  set  aside  on  the  plea  that  there  is 
not  merely  a  distinction,  but  an  antagonism  and  a  contrast  be- 
tween the  Mind  of  Man  and  the  governing  agencies  in  Nature, 
it  becomes  necessary,  in  the  conduct  of  this  argument,  to  exam- 
ine wherein  the  distinction  between  Man  and  Nature  really 
lies  ;  and  in  no  way  can  this  examination  be  conducted  so  well 
as  by  taking  some  typical  illustrations  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  that  distinction  comes  out  most  broadly,  and  in 
which  it  may  have  struck  us  forcibly.  I  will  take  some  illus- 
trations which  require  a  few  words  of  preface. 


ON   THE   TRUTHFULNESS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  10$ 

Very  often  when  we  speak  of  Nature  we  "are  thinking  of 
nothing  but  the  Physical  Forces,  and  of  these,  too,  not  in  their 
combinations,  but  taken  separately,  and,  as  it  were,  by  them- 
selves. Now  it  is  quite  true  that  each  one  of  the  Physical 
Forces  in  Nature,  taken  by  itself,  works  uniformly  and  (as  it 
seems  to  us)  of  necessity.  Under  exactly  the  same  circum- 
stances and  combinations,  they  all  do  exactly  the  same  things. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  equally  true  that  in  Nature  these 
circumstances  and  combinations  are  not  uniform  nor  constant, 
nor  are  they  of  necessity.  On  the  contrary  they  are  conspicu- 
ously various  and  contingent.  We  can  ourselves  change  them 
in  a  variety  of  ways  which  is  almost  infinite,  and  it  is  by  doing 
so,  and  in  no  other  way  whatever,  that  we  can  ever  do  any- 
thing at  all.  The  look  and  the  aspect  of  things  done  in  this 
way  is  familiar  to  us.  We  call  them  artificial,  because  we  rec- 
ognize them  to  be  the  work  of  artifice ;  and  in  this  recognition 
we  rest  upon  the  distinction  between  these  things  and  other 
things  which  seem  to  be  the  result  of  no  artifice  whatever,  but 
of  mere  Physical  Causation,  without  any  arrangement  of  condi- 
tions, and  without  any  correspondence  between  preparation  and 
result.  For  very  often  the  Physical  Forces  work,  or  appear  to 
us  to  work,  not  under  any  special  combination,  but,  as  it  were, 
alone  and  by  themselves.  That  is  to  say,  they  exhibit  their 
purely  natural  effects  under  no  particular  or  evident  guidance 
or  co-ordination  or  control. 

Even  when  these  unguided  operations  are  seen  ultimately  to 
fit  into  some  great  use  in  the  economy  of  Nature,  both  the  re- 
sult and  the  causes  of  it  appear  to  us  to  be  purely  accidental. 
For  example,  the  distribution  of  clays,  and  sands,  and  gravels, 
over  the  surface  of  the  Earth  forms  an  obvious  link  in  the  chain 
of  causes  which  have  prepared  soils,  and  fitted  them  for  the 
support  of  vegetation,  and  for  cultivation  by  the  hand  of  Man. 
"but  this  distribution  of  various  materials  over  the  surface  of 
the  Earth  has  been  mainly  the  blind  work  of  water,  acting,  as 
it  always  must  act,  under  the  universal  force  of  gravitation. 
All  gravels  are  the  fragments  of  former-  rocks.  Some  of  these 
fragments  have  been  broken  off  by  frosts,  washed  down  by 
rains,  carried  into  the  beds  of  streams,  and  deposited  at  great 
distances  from  their  original  source.  Other  fragments  have 


To6  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

been  carried  into  the  sea,  and  have  been  rolled  on  stormy 
beaches  for  unknown  periods  of  time.  Now  every  one  of  these 
fragments  is  a  work  of  Nature ;  many  of  them  reveal  a  wonder- 
ful history,  and  are  the  best  evidence  We  have  of  great  changes 
in  the  physical  history  of  the  Globe.  They  differ  in  almost 
every  locality,  with  the  nature  of  the  rocks  around  them,  and 
sometimes  with  the  nature  of  rocks  which  are  hundreds  of  miles 
away.  For  this  reason,  the  composition  of  gravels  is  a  subject 
of  great  interest  to  geologists,  and  those  who  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  consider  the  questions  upon  which  they  bear  soon  ac- 
quire a  habit  of  observing  them  which  is  almost  unconscious. 

So  it  was  that  many  years  ago,  as  I  was  walking  in  a  garden 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Edinburgh,  my  eye  wandered  over  the 
materials  which  had  been  freshly  scattered  on  the  path.  Sud- 
denly, and  very  unexpectedly,  it  lighted  on  a  fragment  unlike 
the  rest,  and  unlike  them  in  a  way  which  instantly  carried  its 
own  explanation  on  its  face.  All  the  other  fragments  were 
works  of  Nature.  This  one  fragment  was  certainly  a  work  of 
human  Art.  It  was  a  very  small,  but  a  very  perfect  arrowhead, 
made  of  yellow  flint.  What  was  it  that  made  its  artificial  or- 
igin so  obvious  at  a  glance  ?  The  Physical  Forces  of  Nature, 
it  is  true,  had  made  it ;  but  they  had  made  it  under  special  di- 
rection and  control.  The  Physical  Forces  of  Nature,  working 
by  themselves,  under  no  special  direction  or  control,  could  never 
have  made  that  arrowhead.  No  mere  splitting  by  frost,  no 
mere  chipping  by  accidental  collision  with  other  fragments,  still 
less  any  wearing  by  rivers  or  by  the  sea,  could  possibly  have 
moulded  that  perfect  symmetry  of  form,  with  its  sharpened 
point,  with  its  two  lateral  barbs,  and  with  the  little  shank  be^ 
tween  them.  But  all  this  reasoning  was  an  after-thought.  In 
coming  to  my  conclusion,  I  was  not  conscious  of  any  reasoning. 
The  recognition  was  instantaneous.  It  was  the  recognition  in 
that  fragment,  alone  of  all  the  fragments  round  it,  of  two  things 
which  of  all  others  are  the  most  familiar  to  us.  The  first  of 
these  was  the  adaptation  of  material  and  of  form  to  a  known 
end,  and  the  second  of  these  was  that  particular  mechanical 
method  by  which  the  particular  animal  Man  makes  the  adapta* 
tions  he  intends. 

But  now  let  us  separate  these  two  elements  in  the  contrast 


ON    THE   TRUTHFULNESS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  1 07 

between  the  arrowhead  and  the  other  fragments  of  gravel  which 
lay  around  it.  It  was  not  the  mere  adaptation  of  material  or 
of  form  to  a  known  end  which  stamped  it  at  a  glance  as  human. 
It  was  the  particular  method  by  which  that  adaptation  was  at- 
tained. The  mere  character  of  adaptation  to  a  known  end — 
however  it  may  have  come  about — belongs  quite  as  much  to 
many  works  of  Nature  as  to  the  works  of  Man.  In  this  partic- 
ular case  indeed  the  surrounding  fragments  had  not  this  char- 
acter, but  in  many  other  cases  closely  analogous  they  might 
well  have  had  it.  For  it  so  happens  that  in  certain  gravels  of 
the  South  of  England  there  are  fragments  in  abundance  closely 
resembling  arrowheads,  and  with  the  character  of  special  adap- 
tation quite  as  visibly  stamped  upon  them.  These  are  the  fos- 
sil teeth  of  Sharks  which  swarmed  in  the  seas  which  deposited 
the  gravels  of  "  The  Crag."  These  teeth  are  like  the  arrowhead 
in  being  perfectly  symmetrical  and  beautifully  sharp  and 
pointed.  The  special  end,  too,  to  which  they  are  adapted  is 
equally  the  infliction  of  a  wound  in  the  flesh  of  animals.  Both 
are  Implements  and  nothing  else.  Moreover,  the  principal  dif- 
ference between  the  two  forms  of  Implement  can  only  be  ex- 
plained by  the  difference  between  two  Intentions.  The  men 
who  made  and  who  used  arrowheads  intended  the  arrow  to  re- 
main fixed  and  rankling  in  the  wound  it  made.  The  barbs  are 
specially  adapted  to  the  fulfilment  of  this  intention.  But  Na- 
ture gives  no  barbs  to  the  teeth  of  carnivorous  animals,  for  the 
very  good  reason  that  their  method  of  killing  is  by  a  rapid  repe- 
tition of  bites.  Any  difficulty  or  impediment  in  the  way  of  the 
withdrawal  of  the  teeth  from  the  wound  first  inflicted  would 
therefore  be  a  hindrance  and  not  a  help.  It  would  clearly, 
therefore,  be  an  obstacle  to  the  intention  in  this  case  that  the 
teeth  of  carnivorous  animals  should  be  barbed. 

We  see,  then,  that  in  this  case  of  a  close  general  resemblance 
between  a  work  of  Nature  and  a  work  of  human  Art,  both  are 
equally  examples  of  special  adaptation,  and  that  the  only  dif- 
ference between  them  by  which  we  recognize  the  one  to  be  a 
work  of  Nature  and  the  other  to  be  a  work  of  Man,  is  that  the 
one  is  made  by  the  processes  of  manufacture,  and  the  other  is 
produced  by  the  processes  of  growth.  In  the  one  case,  the 
purposes  of  Intention  are  attained  by  processes  which  work 


108  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

outside  of  the  material  which  is  to  be  shaped.  In  the  other 
case,  the  purposes  of  a  closely  similar  Intention  are  reached  by 
processes  which  work  as  it  were  inside  of  those  materials.  In 
the  one  case,  the  shaping  takes  place  by  hand ;  in  the  other 
case,  the  shaping  takes  place  by  growth. 

Now  it  is  perfectly  true  that  in  a  great  part  of  the  domain  of 
Nature  the  Physical  Forces,  not  only  individually,  but  in  their 
combinations,  always  appear  to  us  to  be  worked  from  the 
inside ;  whilst  it  is  equally  true  that  Man  can  only  work  and 
use  them  from  a  position  which  is  comparatively  external. 
But  in  this  relative  position  to  the  Physical  Forces  there  is,  at 
least,  no  distinction  whatever  between  Man  and  other  living 
creatures.  No  other  living  creature,  indeed,  is  capable  of  mak- 
ing an  implement  like  an  arrowhead,  because  no  other  is  capa- 
ble of  forming  a  deliberate  intention  so  full  of  knowledge  and 
of  foresight.  But  many  of  the  lower  animals  do  build  up  and 
put  together  natural  materials  for  the  attainment  of  special 
ends.  The  nests  of  birds  and  of  many  insects,  and  the  combs 
of  Bees,  are  among  the  most  familiar  examples.  How,  in  ordi- 
nary speech,  should  we  classify  these  ?  In  the  common  use  of 
language,  should  we  or  should  we  not  recognize  the  distinc- 
tion between  such  artificial  constructions  and  the  growths  of 
Nature  ? 

Again,  I  should  answer  this  question  by  a  practical  illustra- 
tion, similar  to  that  which  I  have  employed  in  the  case  of  the 
arrowhead.  After  the  lapse  of  many  years  I  found  myself 
again  scanning  the  gravel  at  my  feet,  in  a  very  different  scene 
from  a  garden  in  the  neighborhood  of  Edinburgh.  It  was  on 
the  wild  banks  of  the  beautiful  river  which  divides  the  Province 
of  Quebec  from  the  Province  of  New  Brunswick  in  North 
America.  Among  the  most  striking  features  of  the  New 
World  are  its  noble  rivers.  The  physical  '  geography  of 
Europe  cannot  afford  the  same  rush  of  waters  as  the  immense 
"  catch-basins  "  of  the  American  Continent.  Even  the  smaller 
streams  of  the  Canadian  Dominion  partake  of  the  same  char- 
acter of  sweep  and  of  abundance.  The  Restigouche  is  one  of 
these.  It  falls  into  the  head  of  the  Bay  of  Chaleur,  after  run- 
ning in  a  deep  glen  through  many  miles  of  forest  hills.  These 
hills  are  generally  very  steep  ;  and  the  soil  is  comparatively 


ON    THE   TRUTHFULNESS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  109 

poor,  so  that  there  are  few  agricultural  settlers,  and  their 
farms  are  often  widely  separated.  During  a  fishing  excursion 
on  that  river  in  the  month  of  July,  1879,  I  landed  from  a  canoe 
not  far  from  the  junction  of  a  large  tributary,  the  Patapediac. 
All  Canadian  rivers  bear  more  or  less  driftwood  down  their 
course,  and  on  some  of  them,  at  points  which  favor  the  accumu- 
lation of  it,  there  are  sometimes  thousands  of  tons  heaped  upon 
each  other  in  impressive  and  picturesque  confusion.  At  the 
point  at  which  I  landed  there  was  nothing  of  the  sort.  On  the 
contrary,  the  shore  was  remarkably  clean,  the  natural  gravel 
being  smoothed  and  compacted  by  the  annual  passage  of  the 
ice  in  spring.  But  I  soon  came  upon  one  little  bit  of  driftwood 
lying  among  the  stones,  and  something  peculiar  in  its  appear- 
ance at  once  attracted  my  attention.  It  was,  like  others  of  its 
kind,  well  worn,  and  both  ends  were  well  rounded.  On  lifting 
it,  I  saw  in  a  moment  that  it  had  not  been  broken  by  wind 
from  its  parent  tree.  There  were  no  straggling  points, — no 
torn  fibres, — no  look  of  mere  accident  about  it.  At  both  ends 
it  had  been  definitely  cut,  although  the  cut  surfaces  had  been 
subsequently  more  or  less  smoothed  by  rubbing  against  the 
stones.  On  the  other  hand,  nothing  in  its  appearance  sug- 
gested the  work  of  a  woodman's  axe.  On  a  closer  examina- 
tion the  mystery  was  solved  at  once.  Two  deep  incisions,  as  if 
made  by  two  powerful  chisels  working  together. and  parallel  to 
each  other,  revealed  the  fact  that  this  bit  of  wood  had  been  cut 
and  prepared  by  that  curious  animal  to  which,  more  than  to  any 
other,  has  been  given  an  instinct  and  a  habit  of  constructive 
purpose  which  resembles  those  of  Man.  It  flashed  upon  me 
in  a  moment  that  I  was  holding  in  my  hand  one  of  the  bricks, 
as  it  were,  used  in  the  building  of  a  Beaver's  dam,  or  possibly 
one  of  the  loaves  which  are  stored  for  winter's  food. 

Was  this  or  was  it  not  a  work  of  Nature  ?  Certainly  not — in 
at  least  one  ordinary  meaning  of  the  word.  It  was  because  of 
the  distinction  between  it  and  the  mere  work  of  the  winds  and 
of  the  waters  and  of  the  stones  that  I  noticed  it  as  peculiar. 
It  was  because  of  this  distinction  that  I  then  thought  of  it,  and 
now  write  of  it,  as  a  thing  of  higher  interest  than  a  mere  bit  of 
the  tangled  driftwood  of  the  Restigouche.  But  if  any  one 
should  hesitate  upon  this  point,  namely,  as  to  whether  things 


110  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

fashioned  and  shaped  by  the  lower  animals  do  or  do  not  come 
under  the  category  of  "  works  of  Nature,"  then  this  very  doubt 
or  hesitation  is  itself  significant.  It  shows  that  there  are  points 
of  contact  between  the  two  categories  so  close  that  we  can 
hardly  say  to  which  of  them  certain  things  belong.  It  shows 
that  the  distinction  is  one  of  degrees,  and  that  there  are  depart- 
ments, as  it  were,  in  Nature  so  much  higher  than  others,  that 
they  seem  to  rise  above  the  level  of  her  physical  domain. 

And  this  aspect  of  the  matter  in  question  will  grow  upon  us 
the  more  closely  we  regard  it.  For  whatever  doubt  we  may 
have  as  to  the  classification  we  should  assign  to  the  stick  which 
the  Beaver  had  prepared,  we  can  have  no  doubt  whatever  as  to 
the  classification  we  should  assign  to  the  Implement  by  which 
the  Beaver  had  prepared  it.  These  two  deep  incisions  by 
which  it  had  been  cut  were  the  marks  of  the  tools  which  had 
been  employed.  Those  tools  were  the  Beaver's  teeth.  But 
these  teeth  are,  beyond  all  question,  works  of  Nature.  In 
themselves  they  are  nothing  more  than  specially  adapted  forms 
of  the  four  front  teeth,  two  in  each  jaw,  which  are  common  to 
the  great  group  of  animals  constituting  the  Order  "  Rodentia  " 
in  the  Mammalian  Class.  The  Beaver  has  indeed  another  Im- 
plement also  adapted  to  the  special  purpose  of  dam-building, 
which  is  altogether  peculiar  to  itself,  and  that  is  a  flattened  tail, 
which  in  its  pec.uliar  movements  and  powerful  muscles  is  unlike 
the  tail  of  any  other  rodent,  or  indeed  of  any  other  animal. 
The  whole  is  an  apparatus  enabling  the  tail  to  be  used  with 
great  force  as  a  trowel  for  beating  mud  into  the  interstices  of 
the  timber,  and  for  thus  giving  to  the  structure  sufficient  solid- 
ity and  coherence  to  arrest  and  resist  the  flow  of  running  water. 
This  Implement  of  the  tail  is  an  unusually  special  adaptation  to 
the  end  of  dam-building,  because  it  is  more  exceptional  in  its 
structure,  being  indeed  absolutely  unique  in  the  organization  of 
the  Mammalia.  And  so  the  finished  dam,  even  more  than  the 
single  stick  used  in  its  construction,  shows  us  that  there  is  a 
gradual  passage  from  things  which  beyond  all  doubt  we  should 
call  works  of  Nature  to  other  things  which  as  certainly  we 
should  recognize  as  works  of  Art. 

And  when  this  passage  has  been  traced  in  the  works  of  the 
lower  animals,  we  recognize  it  as  a  passage  which  is  not  less  ob- 


ON    THE   TRUTHFULNESS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  Ill 

vious  in  the  works  of  Man.  The  hand  of  a  man  we  call  a  work 
of  Nature,  but  the  products  of  that  hand  we  call  works  of  Art. 
Yet  it  is  needless  to  say  that  there  is  an  indissoluble  unity  be- 
tween the  two.  Just  as  the  teeth  and  the  tail  and  the  whole 
physical  structure  and  the  mental  instincts  of  a  Beaver  are  har- 
monious members  of  a  series  leading  up  to  engineering  works 
of  great  strength  and  skill,  so  the  hand  of  Man  is  the  one  great 
implement  which  is  co-operant  with  a  brain  of  indefinitely  greater 
constructive  ingenuity.  In  both  cases  the  Organic  Implements 
are  classed  as  works  of  Nature.  In  both  cases  the  works 
which  they  construct  are  classed  as  works  of  Art.  And  so  the 
principle  of  the  distinction  which  is  unconsciously  reflected  in 
common  speech  is  a  principle  which  we  can  trace  to  its  source. 
All  living  things  are  in  themselves  works  of  Nature,  whilst  all 
the  works  which  they  by  their  structure,  and  by  their  corres- 
ponding instincts,  are  enabled  to  execute  are,  in  their  measure 
and  degree,  works  of  Art. 

There  is,  in  this  distinction,  as  there  generally  is  in  the  dis- 
tinctions of  common  speech,  a  profound  philosophy.  Between 
the  adapted  structure  of  all  living  creatures  and  those  other 
adapted  structures  which  these  creatures  have  been  fitted  and 
formed  to  make,  there  is  indeed  no  break  of  continuity,  but 
there  is  the  introduction  of  an  intervening  Personality, — of  a 
living  Will,  however  narrow  its  bounds, — of  a  derived  and  del- 
egated power  to  do  afresh,  in  small  measures  and  degrees,  that 
>  same  kind  of  work  which,  in  much  larger  measuu  "nd  degrees, 
has  been  done  for  them  in  their  own  structure,  and  for  their 
own  existence  and  enjoyment  These  works  of  living  creatures 
are  thus,  as  it  were,  works  of  Nature  done  by  commission  and 
at  second-hand.  A  great  distinction  this,  no  doubt, — and  all 
the  greater  in  proportion  as  the  delegation  is  less  restricted  and 
the  commission  is  wider  in  the  powers  conferred  ;  but  it  is  a 
distinction  which  is  obviously  subordinate,  and  lies  wholly  in- 
side the  larger  definition  which  we  must  give  to  Nature  when 
we  consider  how  absolutely  all  the  powers  wielded  by  the  Per- 
sonality of  an  living  creatures  are  delegated  powers,  given  in 
and  through  adapted  structures.  Moreover,  when  we  look  at 
the  infinite  gradations  under  which  Personality  is  constituted 
among  living  creatures,  and  how  various  are  the  degrees  of  free- 


112  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

dom  and  of  originating  power  which  have  been  given  to  them, 
we  must  see  that  in  this  respect  there  is  no  distinction  between 
the  highest  and  the  lowest.  In  this  respect,  I  say — meaning  by 
these  words  to  specify  the  one  characteristic  of  delegation,  and 
not  meaning  to  deny  a  vast  difference  in  the  gifts  and  powers 
which  by  virtue  of  that  delegation  are  conveyed. 

Here  is  the  confusion  which  exists  in  many  minds.  They 
fear  that  if  their  powers  of  thought  and  of  contrivance  are  re- 
ferred to  that  Organization  which  is  undoubtedly  the  work  of 
Nature,  these  powers  must  be  degraded  into  mere  functions  of 
organic  or  mechanical  necessity.  But  the  character  of  delega- 
tion does  not  in  itself  necessarily  imply  anything  of  the  kind. 
Two  men  may  be  equally  the  agents  of  another,  although  the 
one  is  bound  down  by  precise  and  imperative  instructions, 
whilst  the  other  is  intrusted  with  a  wide  and  a  free  discretion. 
And  so  it  is  with  that  great  army  of  living  creatures  which  are 
all  equally  the  births  of  Nature,  but  which  hold  innumerable 
ranks  and  commissions  in  her  service.  The  work  of  some  of 
them  is  menial,  almost  mechanical,  and  more  or  less  uncon- 
scious. The  work  of  others  partakes  in  an  ascending  order  of 
degrees  of  a  larger  and  a  larger  share  of  Intelligence  and  of 
Will.  Man  is  separated  from  all  others  by  a  great  gulf  in  the 
measure  in  which  he  partakes  of  these.  Nor  will  it  make  any 
difference  in  the  argument  if  the  mental  gifts  of  Man  are  re- 
garded as  so  immeasurably  superior  as  to  be  "  different  in  kind." 
This  is  a  "estion  of  definition ;  and  although  I  know  of  no 
definition  of  Intelligence  or  of  Will  which  does  not  include  the 
lowest  manifestations  as  well  as  the  highest,  yet  it  is  unques- 
tionably true  that  between  the  two  ends  of  the  scale  there  is  a 
distance  and  a  space  which  is,  as  it  were,  infinity.  In  Man  new 
elements  are  added  to  those  which  are  manifested  in  the  lower 
animals,  and  these  new  elements  make  him  almost  as  a  God  to 
them.  But  he  cannot  be  as  a  God  to  himself  ;  for  if  he  sees  a 
gulf  below  him,  he  is  only  too  painfully  aware  that  there  is  a 
much  wider  gulf  above  him.  We  may  separate  as  widely  as  we 
please  between  Man  and  the  Beasts  ;  but  in  the  general  fact 
that  in  all  his  great  powers  and  in  his  wide  extent  of  freedom 
he  is  the  creature  and  the  child  of  the  Natural  System  in  which 
he  lives,  there  is  no  difference  at  all. 


ON   THE   TRUTHFULNESS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  113 

It  results  from  this  analysis  that  if  Man  is  to  be  considered 
as  separate  from  Nature  because  of  the  external  relation  in 
which,  under  certain  aspects,  he  stands  to  the  Physical  Forces, 
and  because  of  the  necessity  he  is  under  in  all  his  works  of  act- 
ing upon  them  "from  the  outside,"  then  the  whole  vast  series 
of  the  lower  animals  must  be  considered  as  also  separate  from 
Nature,  because  of  their  like  position,  and  because  of  the  same 
necessity  under  which  they  lie.  They  all  partake  of  that  indi- 
viduality— of  that  separateness  and  of  that  voluntary  power — 
in  which  Personality  consists.  Within  some  little  area,  how- 
ever small,  they  are  all  free,  and  they  all  do  whatever  they  may 
have  to  do  by  acting  "  from  outside  "  on  the  materials  and  on 
the  forces  of  the  world  around  them.  Moreover,  it  results 
from  this  analysis  that  as  Man  and  all  other  living  beings  are 
separate  from  Nature  in  this  one  aspect  of  their  relations  to 
her,  so  they  are  all  equally  united  to,  and  form  part  of,  Nature 
in  that  other  aspect — far  more  intimate — which  concerns  their 
own  physical  Organization.  For  that  Organization  is  a  growth 
and  not  a  manufacture.  It  is  the  work  of  the  Physical  Forces 
under  the  combinations  which  are  effected  by  that  particular 
agency  which  we  know  as  Life.  It  is  a  further  result  of  this 
analysis  to  show  that  in  respect  to  the  evidence  of  Intention 
there  is  an  absolute  unity — a  perfect  continuity — between  the 
structure  of  every  Organism  and  its  works  or  doings.  It  can 
only  make  or  do  what  the  Apparatus  given  to  it  fits  it  and  ena- 
bles it  to  do.  It  is  certain,  therefore,  that  the  same  interpreta- 
tion which  applies  to  the  work  must  apply  to  the  Apparatus 
by  which  the  work  is  done.  If  the  human  or  anthropopsychic 
interpretation  of  the  works  and  actions  of  all  living  Beings  is 
the  only  interpretation  which  explains  them,  it  must  be  the 
only  interpretation  which  explains  the  adapted  structures 
through  which  these  works  and  actions  are  performed.  The 
reasoning  must  be  false  which  admits  the  evidence  of  Will  and 
Purpose  in  the  comparatively  limited  degree  in  which  these  at- 
tributes are  exhibited  in  the  actions  of  the  lower  animals,  whilst 
it  denies  them  in  the  much  larger  degree  in  which  they  are  ex- 
hibited in  the  fashioning  of  the  tools  with  which  they  are  sup- 
plied. If  the  anthropopsychic  explanation  of  a  Beaver's  dam  is 
the  only  explanation  which  would  be  tolerated  by  common 
8 


114  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

sense,  it  is  not  less  certainly  the  only  explanation  which  can  be 
satisfactory  of  the  Beaver's  teeth  and  of  the  Beaver's  tail. 

And  if  there  be  ever  any  difficulty  in  accepting  this  conclu- 
sion because  of  the  apparent  difference  between  the  methods  by 
which  Man  attains  his  ends  and  the  methods  by  which  like 
ends  are  attained  in  Nature,  let  us  consider  well  in  what  that 
difference  consists.  Man — it  is  often  said — works  his  Will  in 
Nature,  in  so  far  as  he  can  work  it  at  all,  by  acting  upon  the 
chain  of  Physical  Causation  "from  the  outside."  In  Nature 
no  one  can  be  seen  working  in  a  like  position.  Everything 
seems  to  us  to  be  done  from  inside  that  chain,  by  action  which 
not  only  appears  to  be  automatic,  but  to  be  self-originated  and 
self-sustained.  But  can  we  not  see  how  slippery  are  the  foun- 
dations on  which  this  distinction  rests  ?  We  must  feel  and 
know  how  ignorant  we  are  of  the  ultimate  constitution  of  things, 
and  especially  of  the  ultimate  relations  of  Mind  and  Matter. 
Moreover,  we  must  feel  and  know  that  this  is  precisely  the  re- 
gion of  thought  in  which  the  anthropopsychic  objection  suggests 
itself.  What  accurate  conception  can  we  really  form  of  that 
which  is  "  outside  "  of  the  Physical  Forces  and  that  which  is 
"  inside "  of  them  ?  Yet  this  is  the  main  distinction  which 
strikes  us  between  a  growth  and  a  manufacture — between  the 
adapted  structures  of  which  Nature  is  so  full  and  those  other 
adapted  structures  which  are  made  by  ourselves  and  by  other 
living  creatures. 

Are  we  quite  sure  that  this  contrast  of  relative  place  between 
the  agencies  of  Mind  and  the  Forces  of  Matter  is  a  real  con- 
trast in  the  nature  of  things,  or  a  contrast  which  is  apparent 
only?  May  not  our  notions  of  what  is  outside  and  of  what  is 
inside  of  Nature  be  liable  to  trie  same  kind  of  error  which  used 
formerly  to  affect  our  notions  of  downwardness  and  upwardness 
of  direction  on  our  own  Globe  ?  No  apparent  distinction  was 
once  more  fundamental  in  physics,  and  none  interposed  a 
greater  obstacle  in  the  way  of  accepting  and  understanding  the 
real  constitution  of  the  Universe.  How  could  there  be  an  An- 
tipodes where  men  and  animals  would  hang  with  their  heads 
downwards  ?  But  this  difficulty  was  cleared  up  when  men  came  to 
understand  that  there  is  no  such  distinction  as  "  downwardness  " 
and  "  upwardness "  in  absolute  Space,  and  that  although  our 


ON   THE   TRUTHFULNESS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  11$ 

perception  of  this  distinction  is  not  at  all  false  or  deceptive 
when  it  is  properly  understood,  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  per 
fectly  true  in  its  own  limited  sphere,  it  is  the  perception  of  a 
truth  which  is  local,  as  it  were,  and  relative,  and  does  not  stand 
in  any  contradiction  whatever  with  the  higher  truths  which  af- 
firmed that  a  habitable  Antipodes  was  possible,  because  the 
same  absolute  direction  which  is  upwards  on  one  side  of  the 
Globe  would  be  downwards  upon  the  other.  It  is  perfectly  true 
that  downwardness  is  a  fact  of  consciousness  to  us  ;  but  it  de- 
pends upon  the  direction  in  which  the  force  of  gravitation  is 
felt  as  exerting  its  greatest  energy  upon  our  bodies.  In  like 
manner  the  outwardness  of  our  own  mental  relation  to  the  Phys- 
ical Forces  over  which  we  exercise  some  control  is  a  fact  of 
consciousness,  and  so  likewise  is  our  own  impression  as  to  the 
apparent  inwardness  of  the  agencies  which  work  in  Nature. 
But  this  contrast  is  one  which  may  well  be  apparent  only,  and 
may  be  the  mere  result  of  the  invisibility  of  the  forces  by  which 
the  motions  of  Matter  are  effected.  The  truth  is,  that  when  we 
come  to  think  of  it,  we  never  do  believe  that  the  visible  motions 
of  Matter  which  appear  to  be  spontaneous  and  self-determined, 
can  be  so  in  reality.  We  always  conceive  of  these  motions  as 
due  to  some  "force  "  acting  outside  the  matter  which  is  moved. 
Our  idea  of  Causality  always  does,  and  always  must,  go  behind 
and  beyond  the  Visible  :  and  so  we  can  readily  understand  how 
it  is  that  the  Physical  Forces  must  of  necessity  seem  to  us  to  be 
working  "  by  themselves,"  when  in  reality  they  may  be  work- 
ing under  a  strict  control. 

Two  circumstances  in  our  own  experience  may  help  us  better 
to  understand  how  all  difficulty  on  this  subject  may  easily  arise 
from  exclusive  attention  to  partial  aspects  of  the  truth.  One  of 
these  circumstances  is  this — that  in  our  own  bodily  Organism 
the  two  apparently  contradictory  aspects  of  the  relationship  of 
Mind  to  Matter  are  both  present,  and  are  both  continually  ob- 
served. The  passage  from  movements  which  are  wholly  inter- 
nal and  automatic  to  other  movements  over  which  the  Mind 
has  usually  an  outward  and  complete  control,  is  a  passage  of 
insensible  gradations.  The  second  of  these  circumstances  is 
this,  that  the  most  ingenious  of  all  human  machines — those  in 
which  Mind  is  most  present  and  most  triumphant — are  pre- 


Il6  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

cisely  those  in  which  the  Physical  Forces  have  most  the  appear- 
ance of  acting  by  their  own  internal  energies,  and  by  nothing 
else.  Almost  all  the  machines  which  are  employed  in  the  ser- 
vice of  civilized  life,  even  the  most  simple,  when  first  seen  by 
Savages,  are  supposed  by  them  to  be  living  creatures,  because, 
in  their  own  limited  experience,  they  have  no  conception  of 
mental  purpose,  intention,  or  contrivance  reaching  so  far  by 
means  of  mere  external  action  upon  the  natural  forces.  It 
never  occurs  to  them  that  it  may  be  all  done  by  acting  upon 
those  forces  precisely  as  they  themselves  act  upon  them  in  the 
shaping  of  a  spear  or  in  the  aiming  of  an  arrow.  They  con- 
clude, therefore,  that  the  action  of  the  machine  is  analogous  to 
that  other  kind  of  action  with  which  they  are  even  more  famil- 
iar, and  which  does  much  more  complicated  things,  namely,  the 
kind  of  action  by  which  they  move  their  own  bodily  Organs. 
This  kind  of  action  is  from  a  source  which  is  inward,  and  con. 
stitutes  the  special  power  of  a  living  Personality. 

Now  we  can  very  well  understand  that  in  respect  to  our 
knowledge  of  and  resource  over  Nature  we  are  all  comparative- 
ly in  the  position  of  children  or  of  Savages,  and  our  conclu- 
sions as  to  the  limits  of  mental  action  upon  Matter,  or  of  the  rel- 
ative place  in  which  Mind  may  take  its  stand  in  causing  the 
subject  movements  of  Material  Force,  we  may  very  easily  be 
liable  to  the  same  delusions.  Limited  as  our  knowledge  and 
resources  are,  it  is  nevertheless  wonderful  what  we  ourselves 
can  make  the  Physical  Forces  do  in  the  way  of  representing, 
fulfilling,  and  embodying  the  purposes  of  Mind.  It  may  sound 
strange,  but  it  is  nevertheless  strictly  true,  that  we  can  and  do 
make  machines  with  the  power  and  the  faculty  of  self-control. 
There  is  a  well-known  part  of  the  steam-engine  which  is  called 
the  "  governor."  It  is  what  its  name  implies.  When  the  en- 
ergy of  the  steam  is  excessive  for  its  intended  work,  it  is  the 
function  of  the  "  governor  "  to  restrain  and  limit  the  supply  of 
that  energy  to  every  part  of  the  machine,  and  amongst  others 
to  itself.  With  a  sensitiveness  as  delicate  as  that  of  any  living 
thing,  and  with  an  instantaneousness  of  action  which  exceeds 
that  of  the  most  resolute  and  wakeful  Will,  this  function  of 
watchfulness  and  restraint  is  perfectly  discharged.  To  all  out- 
ward appearance,  and  in  a  certain  sense  in  reality  and  in  truth, 


ON   THE   TRUTHFULNESS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  117 

this  action  has  its  origin  inside  the  machine.  A  mode  of  ac- 
tion which  is  essentially  variable  and  contingent  is  yet  due  to 
rigid  Physical  Causation,  and  has  all  the  appearance  of  being 
part  of  the  chain  of  cause  and  effect  which  men  speak  of  as 
fixed  and  unalterable.  This  variable  action  arises  as  a  nec- 
essary consequence  out  of  those  invariable  laws  of  motion,  to 
which  "  centrifugal  force  "  is  due.  And  yet  all  this  appearance 
of  inwardness  and  of  spontaneousness  in  the  action  of  the  gov- 
ernor of  a  steam-engine  is — not  false  indeed,  but — a  partial  and 
imperfect  aspect  of  the  truth.  In  reality  it  is  the  work  of  Mind. 
In  reality  its  source  lies  outside  the  chain  of  Physical  Causation, 
— in  that  power  which  stands  behind  it  and  above  it,  and  which 
uses  the  rigidity  and  uniformity  of  the  Physical  Forces  as  the 
instrument  of  its  own  varying  intentions. 

This  is  an  example  which  enables  us  to  understand  how 
widely,  and  indeed  how  universally,  and  yet  how  secretly  and 
invisibly,  the  same  principle  may  prevail  in  the  System  of  Na- 
ture. In  all  its  mechanism  those  actions  which  appear  to  us 
to  be  automatic  may  well  be  so  only  in  the  same  sense.  They 
work  "  of  themselves ;  "  but  then  they  can  work  as  they  do 
only  because  those  "  selves  "  are  adjusted  to  do  certain  things. 
There  are  many  automatic  movements  in  our  own  bodies  which 
are  a  perfect  illustration  of  this  principle — such,  for  example,  as 
the  Apparatus  which  watches  against  the  introduction  of  food  into 
the  wrong  passage  of  the  throat,  and  shuts  it  off,  or  coughs  it  out, 
by  sensitive  and  convulsive  actions  which  are  entirely  beyond  the 
control  of  the  Will.  All  these  automatic  movements  and  all  the 
Apparatus  by  which  they  are  effected  are  the  work  of  Nature,  as 
distinguished  from  the  work  of  Man  ;  and  yet  they  all  may  be 
equally  effected  by  some  action  originating  outside  the  chain 
of  mere  Physical  Causation.  The  immediate  adequacy  of  that 
causation  to  produce  mechanically  the  observed  effects  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  question.  In  both  the  instances  which 
I  have  just  cited  that  adequacy  can  be  perfectly  traced  and 
explained.  In  the  one  case — that  of  the  governor  in  a  steam- 
engine,  the  flying  apart  of  two  whirling  balls  is  made  by  con- 
necting rods  to  lift  a  valve,  and  the  more  violently  the  balls  are 
whirled  by  any  excess  of  steam,  the  more  they  fly  asunder,  and 
consequently  the  more  they  lift  the  rods  and  close  the  valve. 


Il8  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

In  the  other  case,  that  of  the  Apparatus  for  protecting  the 
windpipe,  a  nerve  of  extreme  sensitiveness  and  irritability  is 
spread  over  a  particular  muscular  surface,  and  the  contact  or 
passage  of  any  foreign  body  at  once  produces  automatically  a 
violent  and  convulsive  contraction.  In  like  manner  and  in 
close  proximity  there  is  another  similar  Apparatus  with  an  ex- 
actly opposite  purpose — an  Apparatus  which,  instead  of  reject- 
ing foreign  matter,  is,  on  the  contrary,  made  to  seize  it  and  force 
it  down  the  passage  which  it  ought  to  take.  But  all  these 
chains  of  Physical  Causation  are  made  into  "  chains  "  by  links 
which  are  joined,  not  by  necessity  or  by  accident,  but  by 
Adjustment  for  the  discharge  of  a  particular  function.  In 
neither  case  is  the  Physical  Causation  intelligible  without  ref- 
erence to  the  special  end  to  which  it  is  directed. 

And  here  we  come  upon  a  doctrine  or  abstract  proposition 
which,  like  the  elementary  propositions  of  Euclid,  bears  upon 
the  face  of  it  all  the  characters  of  an  axiomatic  truth.  Strange 
to  say,  it  is  often  quoted  now  as  a  stronghold  of  Materialistic 
philosophy,  and  as  establishing  the  all-sufficiency  of  purely 
mechanical  explanations.  That  doctrine  is  this — that  the 
foundation  of  all  science  is  confidence  in  the  Intelligibility  of 
Nature.1*  And  never  was  there  any  axiom  with  a  richer  mean- 
ing,— never  any  with  wider  or  more  searching  developments 
of  truth.  It  is  an  axiom  which  asserts  that  the  system  of  Na- 
ture is  in  close  correspondence  with  the  Intelligence  of  Man. 
But  this  correspondence  must  be  with  the  whole  of  Man's  In- 
telligence, and  not  with  a  bit  of  it  only.  Those  who  try  to 
restrict  it  to  a  part  of  our  Intelligence,  and  that  part  certainly 
not  the  highest  part,  are  not  reasoning  in  consistency  with  the 
axiom,  but  in  defiance  of  it.  They  are  taking  its  name  in 
vain.  The  doctrine  of  the  Intelligibility  of  Nature  demands 
that  this  Intelligibility  should  be  coextensive  with  the  whole 
range  of  Man's  Intelligence,  and  must  embrace  especially 
the  higher  faculties  as  well  as  the  lower.  Those  which  per- 
ceive the  reason  of  things  must  be  included  as  well  as  those 
which  perceive  their  causes  merely.  This  is  the  scientific  basis 
on  which  we  can  affirm  with  certainty  that  the  anthropopsychic 
view  of  phenomena,  when  duly  understood  and  limited,  is  at 

*  Lange's"  Hist,  of  Materialism."    Transla.  vol.  iii.  p.  20. 


ON   THE   TRUTHFULNESS    OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  119 

least  one  most  just  and  necessary  aspect  of  the  truth.  If  the 
Intelligibility  of  Nature  demands  that  we  should  trust  our  me- 
chanical faculties  when  they  recognize  the  relation  between 
completed  structure  and  actual  performance,  it  demands  not 
less  clearly  that  we  should  trust  those  other  intellectual  facul- 
ties which  recognize  the  relation  between  the  preparation  of 
that  structure,  and  some  foresight  of  its  work.  In  the  System 
of  Nature  there  is  no  break  of  continuity  between  these  two. 
There  is  a  perfect  passage  and  a  perfect  unity. 

The  assertion  is  often  made,  but  is  quite  unfounded,  that 
the  explanations  which  consist  in  the  perception  of  Purpose 
are  obliged  to  fly  to  the  dark  places  of  Nature,  where  mechani- 
cal explanations  have  not  yet  been,  or  may  never  be  discovered. 
The  contrary  is  the  truth.  Nowhere  does  the  light  of  Purpose 
shine  more  clearly  to  our  Intelligence  than  in  those  adaptations 
of  Nature  in  which  her  machinery  and  her  means  have  been 
most  perfectly  explored.  In  some  cases  it  is  the  extreme  sim- 
plicity, in  other  cases  it  is  the  extreme  complexity,  of  the  means 
employed  which  most  strikes  us  with  wonder  and  admiration. 
But  in  no  case  does  our  perception  of  mechanical  causes  oblit- 
erate or  supersede  our  perception  of  the  aims  to  which  these 
causes  have  been  made  subordinate.  These  two  perceptions 
are  not  antagonistic,  but  complementary.  Neither  is  complete 
without  the  other.  But  of  the  two,  our  perception  of  aims  is 
perhaps  the  best  able  to  stand  alone.  The  most  perfect  ascer- 
tainment of  mechanical  cause,  the  clearest  explanations  of  ani- 
mal structure  and  of  Apparatus  which  are  attainable  by  us, 
must  necessarily  be  incomplete,  even  in  the  purely  mechanical 
point  of  view,  because  they  leave  untouched  the  mystery  at- 
taching to  the  special  combinations  of  elementary  substances 
and  of  elementary  forces  out  of  which  all  such  structures  are 
built  and  by  means  of  which  all  their  appropriate  mechanical 
effects  are  reached.  But  when  our  Intelligence  has  once  recog- 
nized in  any  natural  action  the  discharge  of  a  particular  func- 
tion and  the  adaptation  of  means  to  a  definite  end,  it  is  able  to 
repose  upon  that  perception  as  affording  full  and  adequate 
satisfaction  to  some  at  least  of  the  highest  of  our  mental  fac- 
ulties. It  is  true,  indeed,  that  this  perception  does  not  attain 
the  rank  of  an  ultimate  truth,  for  the  simple  reason  that,  high 


12O  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

as  the  faculties  are  which  recognize  the  reason  of  a  thing,  there 
are  other  faculties  higher  still,  which  seek  to  know  where  that 
Reason — that  Logos — is  seated,  and  what  is  the  place  of  its 
habitation.  This,  however,  is  a  question  belonging  to  another 
category.  It  passes  into  the  region  of  Theology.  But  the 
impossibility  of  answering  it  by  the  methods  of  mere  physical 
research  does  not  imply  the  smallest  doubt  in  the  truthfulness 
of  those  perceptions  which  in  the  course  of  that  research  see 
and  recognize  the  Reasonableness  of  Nature.  The  doctrine 
of  the  Intelligibility  of  Nature  does  indeed  guarantee  the  cor- 
respondence of  our  faculties  with  her  operations  so  far  as  those 
faculties  carry  us.  But  it  does  not  affirm  that  our  Intelligence 
is  co-extensive  with  the  whole  domain  of  knowledge.  We  may 
be  absolutely  sure  that  we  are  right  when  our  Reason  recog- 
nizes another  Reason  in  the  machinery  of  Nature,  although  we 
may  be  wholly  unable  to  discover  more  than  a  few  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  that  Reason  works. 

It  is  here  that  the  deceptions  of  a  really  false  and  spurious 
Anthropomorphism — properly  so  called — begin  to  work.  Mind 
in  ourselves  is  inseparately  connected  with  organized  Matter, 
and  especially  with  a  Brain.  Of  the  nature  of  this  connection 
we  really  know  nothing.  All  the  attempts  to  explain  it,  or  even 
to  express  it,  are  empty  words.  But  the  inference  or  conclusion 
that  Mind  cannot  exist,  or  cannot  be  recognized,  except  when 
seated  in  a  Brain,  is  evidently  the  rudest  and  coarsest  concep- 
tion in  which  Anthropomorphism  could  possibly  be  embodied.* 
It  is  erecting  the  Form  of  Man  into  a  necessity  of  thought.  It 
is  assuming  that  Form  to  be  the  only  form  through  which  thought 
can  be  exerted,  or  in  which  Mind  can  exist.  Even  if  we  could 
see  no  obvious  absurdity  in  such  an  idea,  it  would  still  be  un- 
supported by  any  reasonable  argument.  But  we  can  see  very 
clearly  at  least  one  consideration  which  suggests  that  this  idea 
not  only  may  possibly  be  absurd,  but  is  probably  absurd,  from 
facts  and  considerations  which  are  perfectly  accessible  to  our 
Intelligence.  One  of  these  facts  is  this— that  the  Brain  itself 
has  all  the  characters  of  a  machine  constructed  for  a  purpose. 
Its  elaborate  mechanism— unexhausted  and  apparently  unex- 

*  "  Science  knows  only  one  kind  of  Mind,  that  is,  human."— Lange,  "  History  of  Ma- 
terialism,"  vol.  iii.  p.  73. 


ON    THE    TRUTHFULNESS   OF    HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  121 

haustible  to  us  in  the  subtlety  and  complexity  of  its  structure, — 
with  its  ramifications  of  nervine  tissues  permeating  every  por- 
tion of  the  body,  and  constituting  the  very  essence  of  every 
special  Organ, — some  of  them  being  the  channels  of  all  recep- 
tive, and  others  the  channels  of  all  reactive  powers, — this  won- 
derful mechanism  is  visibly  to  our  Intelligence  an  Organ — 
an  Apparatus.  Now  we  can  perfectly  understand  the  possi- 
bility of  machines  which  are  in  a  sense  self-acting,  and,  within 
certain  limits,  self-regulating.  But  we  cannot  conceive  any 
machine  which,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  is  self-made 
and  self-originated.  The  Intelligibility  of  Nature  negatives 
this  idea  as  nonsense  and  self-contradiction.  It  demands, 
therefore,  that  an  Apparatus  should  be  regarded  as  a  result  of 
preparation,  and  it  demands  farther  that  the  agency  which  pre- 
pares cannot  be  the  same  as  the  product  which  is  prepared. 
The  Brain,  therefore,  instead  of  appearing  to  our  Intelligence 
as  the  only  conceivable  seat  and  shrine  of  Mind,  is  recognized 
by  Reason  as  an  Apparatus  prepared  by  Mind  for  the  play 
and  exhibition  of  some  little  loan  or  emanation  from  itself 
with  a  definite  and  prescribed  sphere  of  Perception  and  of 
Thought.  It  is,  as  it  were,  a  little  pool  drawn  from  an  illimita- 
ble Ocean,  and  so  set  round  and  girdled  by  containing  walls  as 
to  reflect  only  its  own  little  prospect  of  the  world,  and  its  own 
little  patch  of  sky.  Here,  as  elsewhere, — here  in  this  most 
secret  arcanum  of  Nature, — we  perceive  that  same  outsidedness 
of  Mind  in  its  relation  to  Matter  of  which  we  seem  to  be  con- 
scious in  the  operations  of  our  own  Intelligence  when  it  works 
out  its  own  resolves  and  makes  the  elements  and  the  Forces  of 
Nature  subject  to  them. 

It  appears,  then,  that,  on  close  examination,  the  one  great 
distinction  which  is  sometimes  supposed  to  separate  fundamen- 
tally between  the  mechanisms  of  Nature  and  the  mechanisms  of 
Man — namely,  that  Man  acts  from  "  outside  the  chain  of  cause 
and  effect,"  whilst  Nature  works  from  "  inside  "  that  chain — is 
a  distinction  which  vanishes  away.  The  Apparatuses  of  Na- 
ture do  not  even  seem  to  us  to  be  self-constructed,  and  our  in- 
stinctive sense  of  the  Intelligibility  of  Nature  renders  it  impos- 
sible that  we  should  so  regard  them.  The  constructive  Agency, 
wherever  its  ultimate  seat  may  be,  is  certainly  and  almost  visi- 


122  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

bly  outside  the  materials  with  which  it  works.  The  only  differ- 
ence is  this — that  whereas  we  are  ourselves  conscious  of  stand- 
ing outside  the  chain  of  mere  Physical  Causation  in  a  very  lim- 
ited sense  and  in  a  very  limited  degree,  the  constructive  Agency 
in  Nature  seems  to  stand  outside  and  above  it  in  a  measure  and 
degree  which  is  unattainable  to  us. 

And  here  it  is  most  significant  to  observe,  that  the  progress 
of  physical  research,  instead  of  tending  to  obliterate  or  to  nar- 
row, is  tending,  on  the  contrary,  to  broaden  and  deepen  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  bare  Elements  of  Matter  or  the  Physical 
Forces  of  Nature  and  the  complicated  structures  which  have 
been  erected  out  of  them.  In  all  departments  of  science  the 
power  and  dominance  of  abstract  conceptions  in  the  interpreta- 
tions of  Nature  has  become  so  much  more  and  more  conspicu- 
ous that  it  is  daily  found  more  and  more  profitable  to  explain, 
and  more  and  more  possible  to  predict,  the  most  elaborate  se- 
ries of  phenomena  by  the  processes  of  arithmetical  calculation, 
and  of  mathematical  analysis.  And  where  mathematical  ex- 
planations fail,  there  other  mental  conceptions  of  a  still  higher 
order  step  in,  and  are  ever  carrying  us  to  loftier  and  loftier  sum- 
mits in  the  Intelligibility  of  Nature.  Above  all  others,  perhaps, 
the  science  of  Chemistry  has  made  discoveries — corroborated 
more  and  more  by  investigations  purely  physical — which  have 
cast  an  entirely  new  light  on  the  ultimate  constitution  of  mate- 
rial things.  Let  us  look  for  a  little  on  what  this  light  is  and  in 
what  its  novelty  consists. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ON    THE     ELEMENTARY    CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER    IN    RELATION 
TO  THE  INORGANIC. 

THE  Materialistic  Philosophers  of  the  ancient  world  had 
reached  by  purely  speculative  thought  some  conceptions  as  to 
the  constitution  of  Matter  which  have  a  curious  likeness  to  the 
conceptions  of  modern  science.  It  would  be  wrong  to  say  that 
this  likeness  is  superficial.  The  correspondence  between  ideas 
reached  in  early  ages  by  abstract  reasoning  or  by  intuitive  per- 
ception, and  ideas  reached  in  modern  times  as  the  result  of 
physical  research,  is  one  of  the  most  instructive  incidents  in  the 
history  of  human  thought.  It  is  a  correspondence  pointing  un- 
mistakably to  the  close  consanguinity  of  the  Mind  of  Man  with 
the  whole  System  of  External  Nature,  and  to  the  consequent 
fidelity  of  its  general  impressions  when  it  looks  into  that  System 
with  scarcely  any  other  apparatus  than  its  own  thoughtful  and 
inquiring  gaze.  It  is  thus  that  the  early  Greek  philosophers 
had  conceived  the  idea  of  Atoms  as  the  ultimate  particles  of 
Matter,  and  they  were  full  of  curious  imaginations  as  to  the  im- 
portant, and  indeed  the  fundamental  part  which  they  played  in 
the  constitution  of  the  Universe.  We  know  that  a  similar  idea, 
or  at  least  an  idea  which  finds  its  best  expression  in  the  same 
word,  lies  at  the  very  root  of  the  conceptions  which  have  been 
reached  by  modern  science.  But  modern,  science  has  discov- 
ered the  inseparable  connection  between  this  idea  of  Atoms  and 
other  physical  conceptions  of  which  the  Ancients  knew  nothing. 
They  had  an  idea  indeed  of  Matter  consisting  of  ultimate  par- 
ticles, and  they  had  an  idea,  too,  that  these  particles  were  not 
so  much  indivisible  as  practically  undivided.  Their  acute  and 
subtle  intellects  could  not  fail  to  see  that  an  Atom,  in  the  strict- 
est sense  of  the  word,  is  inconceivable.  Everything  which  has 
any  extension,  however  small,  must  be  conceived  as  divisible. 
They  saw,  therefore,  that  the  ultimate  Atoms  of  which  Matter 


124  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

consists  can  only  be  ultimate,  not  because  they  can  be  abso- 
lutely indivisible,  but  because  as  a  fact  they  never  are  divided. 

There  is  a  wonderful  and  instructive  coincidence  here  be- 
tween ideas  based  upon  the  research  of  outward  things,  and  the 
older  ideas  based  upon  the  search  of  the  human  Spirit  into  its 
own  conceptions.  But  the  search  into  outward  things  has  car- 
ried us  farther  now — into  new  and  more  wonderful  regions  of 
speculation  and  of  thought.  In  the  idea  of  an  Atom — divisible 
indeed,  but  never  divided — breakable,  but  never  broken — the 
Ancients  had  got  hold  of  an  idea  which  gave  them  the  unit  of 
mechanical  aggregation.  It  gave  them,  as  it  were,  the  bricks  or 
the  prepared  stones  out  of  which  the  edifices  of  Nature  have 
been  reared.  But  it  gave  them  nothing  more.  It  gave  them 
no  conception  of  the  building  process.  It  gave  them  no  con- 
ception how  the  bricks  and  stones  could  be  put  together — some 
to  serve  the  purpose  of  foundations,  others  to  serve  the  purpose 
of  walls  and  of  chambers, — and  of  passages  of  communication, 
— and  of  batteries  of  force, — and  of  centres  of  energy, — whilst 
others  again  are  made  to  range  themselves  in  ever-varying  lines 
of  ornament  and  of  beauty. 

I  do  not  say  that  modern  science  has  explained  this  fully. 
Very  far  from  it.  But  it  has  explained  it  in  a  measure  and  de- 
gree by  the  discovery  of  agencies,  of  forces,  and  of  energies  de- 
termining the  movements  of  Atoms,  of  which  the  ancient  phi- 
losophers had  not  even  the  most  distant  dream.  They  knew — 
indeed  they  could  not  help  knowing — something  of  the  idea  of 
Force  as  it  is  exerted  in  the  human  body,  and  also  as  it  is  ex- 
erted among  dead  things  in  the  phenomena  of  Weight.  But 
these  were  the  only  forces,  the  only  sources  of  energy,  of  which 
they  had  any  notion  ;  and  even  as  regards  the  phenomena  of 
Weight,  they  had  no  idea  of  the  mystery  which  attaches  to  the 
Force  which  we  now  know  as  the  Force  of  Gravitation.  Per- 
haps even  in  the  present  day  we  do  not  sufficiently  estimate 
that  mystery.  The  sense  of  Weight  in  ourselves,  and  the  uni- 
versality of  its  effects  on  the  things  around  us,  make  it  so  fa- 
miliar that  we  are  apt  to  regard  it  as  a  thing  of  course,  and  as 
needing  no  explanation  whatever.  And  yet  the  physical  causes 
of  Gravitation  are  absolutely  unknown.  Why  and  how  it  is 
that  the  particles  of  Matter  are  drawn  or  impelled  towards  each 


ON    THE    ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER.          125 

other  in  direct  proportion  to  each  other's  mass,  and  in  a  defi- 
nite inverse  proportion  to  the  distance  from  each  other,  is  quite 
inexplicable  in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge.  Attraction 
is  almost  certainly  not  what  it  appears  to  us  to  be.  "  Action  at 
a  distance  "  is  not  really  conceivable ;  so  that  when  two  distant 
bodies  seem  to  exert  any  influence  on  each  other,  the  effect 
must  be  really  due  to  some  intervening  medium  by  which  they 
are  pushed  or  pulled.  But  assuming  the  mutual  attraction  of 
all  the  particles  of  Matter  as  the  provisional  expression  of  an 
ultimate  fact,  it  goes  but  a  very  little  way  indeed  towards  ex- 
plaining the  constitution  of  Nature  as  we  see  it.  The  ancient 
Materialists  made  as  much  of  it  as  they  could.  They  conceived 
the  existing  Order  of  Nature  to  have  been  evolved  out  of  the 
mere  clash  of  Atoms.  And  no  doubt  the  mutual  attraction  of 
the  particles  of  Matter  under  the  Force  of  Gravitation  may  ac- 
count for  the  condensation — that  is  to  say,  for  the  mere  aggre- 
gation of  them.  It  may  indeed  account  for  a  great  deal  more, 
because  it  is  possible  that  all  the  energies  of  Heat  and  Light 
may  be  due  to  Gravitation.  Various  hypotheses  involving  this 
idea  have  appeared  from  time  to  time ,  and  nearly  thirty  years 
ago  Sir  W.  Thomson  lent  the  high  authority  of  his  name  to  a 
theory  in  which  Gravitation  was  made  to  account  for  all  the 
Light,  Heat,  and  Motions  of  the  Universe.  But  this  is  a  con- 
ception far  beyond  the  knowledge  of  the  Ancients.  They 
simply  generalized  from  the  ordinary  phenomena  of  Force  and 
Weight.  The  idea  of  motion  is  of  course  involved  and  presup- 
posed, and  the  further  idea  of  eccentric  clashing  among  the 
Atoms  leads  to  the  conception  of  movements  in  circles,  in 
ellipses,  or  in  vortices. 

These  conceptions  supply  almost  the  whole  furniture  of  the 
old  Materialism ;  and  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  there  is  a  distinct 
tendency  in  modern  Materialism  to  lower  and  impoverish  the  lan- 
guage of  science  down  to  the  level  of  that  p  re-scientific  age. 
Even  those  who  have  no  tendency  to  theoretical  Materialism 
are  very  apt  to  adopt  language  which  reproduces  nothing  but 
the  crude  conceptions  of  the  Lucretian  philosophy.  Thus  it 
has  become  almost  a  cant  expression  amongst  writers  on  phys- 
ics and  on  physiology  to  ascribe  every  property  exhibited  in 
Matter,  whether  that  Matter  be  dead  or  whether  it  be  connected 


126  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

with  vitality,  to  what  they  call  its  "molecular  constitution." 
Now  the  word  "  Molecule  "  has  been  appropriated  by  general 
agreement  among  chemists  and  physicists  to  those  particles  of 
Matter  which  are  the  units  of  cohesion  or  of  mechanical  aggre- 
gation, as  distinguished  from  the  Atom  which  is  the  unit  of 
chemical  combination.  The  Molecule  is  a  group  of  Atoms  so 
united  that  no  mechanical  force  can  shake  them  loose.  All  the 
mechanical  forces,  therefore,  find  the  Molecule  to  be  an  indi- 
visible Unit,  and  can  only  deal  with  it  as  such.  Chemical 
Force  alone  can  get  at  the  Atom.  No  other  force  can  sunder 
the  combinations  into  which  it  enters.  A  compound  substance 
may  undergo  the  most  violent  changes — it  may  be  ground  to 
dust,  it  may  be  melted  into  liquid,  it  may  be  dissipated  into  gas, 
and  yet  its  molecular  group  of  Atoms  will  remain  intact.  The 
Molecule  of  a  compound  substance,  however  changed  in  form, 
is  still  the  same  compound  of  the  same  elementary  Atoms  which 
constituted  the  substance  before  its  change.  Thus  the  Mole- 
cule of  water,  when  driven  by  heat  into  the  form  of  steam,  is 
as  much  a  chemical  compound  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen  as  it 
was  when  it  cohered  with  other  molecules  more  closely  in  the 
liquid  form,  or  less  closely  in  the  solid  form  of  ice.  On  the 
other  hand  the  Molecule  of  an  elementary  substance  and  the 
unit  of  its  mechanical  aggregation,  may  be  either  a  little  group 
of  its  own  Atoms,  or  it  may  be  these  Atoms  single  and  alone. 
It  will  be  seen,  then,  that  the  phrase  "  molecular  constitution  " 
is  a  phrase  which  essentially  expresses,  and  always  suggests, 
the  idea  of  mere  cohesion,  or  of  mere  mechanical  aggregation, 
and  of  nothing  else. 

When,  therefore,  the  profoundest  distinctions  which  exist  in 
Nature,  as,  for  instance,  the  distinction  between  a  Germ  that 
is  to  develop  into  a  Reptile  or  a  Bird,  and  the  Germ  which  is 
to  develop  into  a  Man — when  this  distinction  is  spoken  of  as 
depending  on  the  "  molecular  constitution  "  of  the  two  Germs, 
the  phrase  either  means  nothing,  and  becomes  a  mere  formula 
for  concealing  ignorance,  or  else  it  is  a  phrase  which  means 
that  the  most  diverse  issues  of  Organization  and  of  Life  de- 
pend on  nothing  else  than  differences  of  mechanical  arrange- 
ment in  the  ultimate  particles  of  Matter.  Now  although 
science  is  helpless  to  explain  all  that  we  desire,  to  know  in 


ON    THE    ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER.          127 

these  deep  questions,  it  has  taught  us  quite  enough  to  enable 
us  to  see  that  the  explanation  suggested  in  this  kind  of  lan- 
guage is  certainly  untrue.  We  can  see,  and  we  can  be  abso- 
lutely sure,  that  not  only  the  mere  aggregation,  but  even  the 
ordeily  arrangement  of  the  ultimate  particles  of  Matter,  is  not 
the  cause,  but  the  consequence  and  effect,  of  the  energies 
which  work  in  chemical  and  in  vital  phenomena.  It  is  not 
only  a  rude  and  coarse  conception,  but  we  are  now  entitled  to 
say  that  it  is  an  ignorant  conception  of  the  System  of  material 
things,  that  it  consists  essentially  in  mere  aggregation  or  in 
movements  arising  out  of  the  accidents  of  mechanical  collision. 
It  was  not  a  very  rational  conception  even  in  the  ages  when 
the  human  mind  had  little  to  go  upon  beyond  the  vague  im- 
pressions it  derived  from  a  very  few  obvious  facts.  But  in 
these  days,  when  a  whole  world  of  new  and  wonderful  discov- 
eries has  been  opened  to  our  view  in  respect  to  the  nature  and 
properties  of  material  Atoms,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  any 
return  to  this  conception  now  is  a  return  to  the  beggarly  ele- 
ments of  an  exploded  superstition. 

The  Atom  of  modern  chemical  science  is  a  very  different 
thing  from  the  Atom  of  ancient  speculation.  Both  in  itself  and 
in  the  powers  with  which  it  is  invested  in  its  relation  to  other 
things,  the  Atom  of  science  is  a  new  conception.  In  itself  it 
is  no  longer  an  ultimate  particle  merely  because  there  is  no 
agency  capable  of  dividing  it.  Its  relation  to  Matter  is  110 
longer  like  that  of  a  grain  of  sand,  or  of  a  mote  of  dust,  to  the 
rock  or  to  the  stuff  from  which  it  has  been  derived.  All  these 
are  as  it  were  accidental  products,  having  neither  form,  nor 
size,  nor  weight  which  is  constant  or  invariable.  But  it  is  the 
cardinal  idea  of  the  new  conception  that  the  Atom  of  each  ele- 
mentarys  ubstance  is,  as  it  were,  and  as  Sir  J.  Herschel  has 
called  it,  a  "  manufactured  article," — that  is  to  say,  that  it  has 
properties  which  are  not  necessary,  but  contingent  and  artifi- 
cial. In  particular  it  is  absolutely  uniform  in  size  and  weight. 
This  absolute  identity  and  uniformity  obtains  in  every  elemen- 
tary Atom,  not  only  in  this  world  but  in  all  the  most  distant 
worlds  of  space.  The  Atom  of  hydrogen,  for  example,  seems 
to  have  absolutely  the  same  properties  whether  it  is  seen  in 
the  light  of  the  great  stars  Sirius  and  Arcturus  or  in  the  de,- 


128  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

composition  of  water  on  our  own  Globe.  In  both  places  the 
molecule  of  hydrogen  executes  its  vibrations  in  precisely  the 
same  time.  That  the  sciences  of  Physics  and  of  Chemistry 
confirm  each  other  in  asserting  the  absolute  unity  and  uni- 
formity of  the  Atom.  We  have  no  knowledge  of  any  natural 
process  by  which  such  absolute  Units  of  Mass  with  identity  of 
properties  can  be  produced.  Professor  Clerk  Maxwell,  speak- 
ing of  these  facts,  and  following  up  the  opinion  embodied  in 
the  dictum  of  Sir  John  Herschel,  has  declared  that  "  each 
molecule  throughout  the  Universe  bears  impressed  upon  it  the 
stamp  of  a  Metric  System  as  distinctly  as  does  the  metre  of 
the  Archives  at  Paris  or  the  double  royal  cubit  of  the  Temple 
at  Carnac." 

But  great  as  the  difference  is  in  this  respect  between  the 
Atom  of  the  ancients  and  the  Atom  of  science,  there  are  other 
differences  which  are  even  greater  and  more  significant.  These 
greater  differences  affect  not  merely  what  the  Atom  is,  but 
what  the  Atom  does.  It  is  not  merely  in  its  physical  constitu- 
tion and  definition,  but  in  its  powers  and  functions,  that  a  new 
world  has  been  opened  up  in  the  doctrines  of  Materialism  by 
the  idea  of  the  Atom  as  scientifically  conceived.  It  is  no 
longer  a  mere  particle  dashing  about  at  random  under  the  im- 
pulse of  projectile  or  gravitating  force.  In  some  respects  in- 
deed it  has  lost  certain  ideal  and  mysterious  properties  which 
the  ancient  Materialists  imagined  as  belonging  to  it.  It  is  no 
longer  regarded  as  infinitely  small,  or  as  infinitely  hard  and 
strong,  or  as  absolutely  impenetrable,  or  as  so  absolutely  single 
as  to  be  in  itself  destitute  of  parts.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  now 
Conceived  as  "already  quite  a  complex  little  world,"  as  a 
"  piece  of  matter  of  measurable  dimensions,  with  shape,  mo- 
tion, and  laws  of  action  which  are  intelligible  subjects  of  scien- 
tific investigation."  The  Atoms  of  some  particular  substances 
in  the  gaseous  state  have  been  approximately  counted,  approx- 
imately weighed  and  measured ;  whilst  the  average  velocity  of 
their  movements  in  a  certain  length  of  path  has  been  made  the 
subject  of  mathematical  calculation. 

So  far  it  may  be  thought  that  the  old  Atom  has  been  disen- 
chanted of  its  mystery,  and  has  been  brought  down  into  the 
terms  of  purely  mechanical  conception.  But  this  is  only  one- 


ON  THE   ELEMENTARY  CONSTITUTION   OF   MATTER.         I2<) 

half  of  the  truth — one  aspect  only  of  the  discoveries  of  modern 
science  in  respect  to  the  nature  and  functions  of  the  Atom. 
Whatever  of  mystery  has  been  subtracted  on  that  side  has 
been  far  more  than  added  on  another.  The  dynamic  aspect 
now  underlies  the  mechanical  aspect,  and  forms,  as  it  were,  an 
investing  medium,  which  not  only  surrounds  but  permeates  the 
Atom  and  all  its  works.  In  the  light  of  Chemistry  the  Atom 
comes  out  as  the  centre  and  the  focus  of  energies  and  powers 
the  most  complicated  and  the  most  subtle  that  exist  in  Nature 
— so  complicated  and  so  subtle  indeed,  that  the  utmost  re- 
sources of  chemical  and  physical  research  are  unable  as  yet  to 
give  of  them  anything  like  a  complete  or  even  an  intelligible 
account.  In  the  first  place,  the  Atom  is  not  one  thing,  but 
many  things.  Each  of  the  elementary  substances  has  its  own 
separate  Atom,  with  its  own  separate  size,  its  own  separate 
weight,  and  its  own  separate  properties.  In  the  second  place, 
these  properties  are  not  absolute,  but  strictly  relative  to  the 
corresponding  properties  of  the  Atoms  of  other  substances 
which  may  be  contiguous.  Thus  the  Atom  of  oxygen  is  totally 
different  from  the  Atom  of  carbon,  and  the  nature  of  the  differ- 
ence consists,  in  so  far  as  we  can  understand  it  at  all,  not  only 
in  differences  of  size  and  weight,  but  even  more  essentially  in 
different  dynamic  relations  of  attraction  which  these  elements 
bear  to  each  other,  and  to  the  Atoms  of  other  substances. 

Moreover,  the  serelations  of  chemical  attraction  are  curiously 
governed  or  limited  by  numerical  laws,  which  have  tasked  the 
ingenuity  of  chemists  to  express  in  language.  The  power  of 
one  Atom  to  attract  to  itself  and  to  combine  with  a  definite 
number  of  other  Atoms,  and  no  more,  is  called  its  "  Valency ;  " 
and  according  to  the  number  which  is  the  limit  of  its  power  it 
is  called  bi-valent,  or  tri-valent,  or  tetra-valent.  Further,  these 
relations  between  one  elementary  Atom  and  another  have 
nothing  to  do  with,  or  are  at  least  wholly  different  from,  the 
relation  of  gravitation.  In  Chemical  Force  Atoms  do  indeed 
attract  each  other,  but  not  in  a  manner  or  degree  which  has 
any  reference  to  each  other's  mass.  The  Atom  of  oxygen,  for 
example,  when  in  contact  with  the  Atom  of  one  substance, 
such  as  nitrogen,  may  be  absolutely  passive  and  inert,  whilst  in 
the  presence  of  the  Atom  of  another  substance,  such  as  hydro- 
9 


13°  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

gen  or  carbon,  it  will  manifest  the  most  intense  activity.  Then, 
again,  the  nature  of  that  activity,  and  of  the  activity  of  all  other 
Atoms  under  the  action  of  Chemical  Force  is  peculiar.  It  can- 
not exert  itself  at  all  across  any  measurable  distance.  Chemi- 
cal combination  requires  the  closest  contiguity,  if  not  actual 
contact,  and  very  often  this  contiguity  or  contact  can  only  be 
brought  about  under  conditions  of  heat  or  of  solution,  which 
must  be  carefully  prepared.  But  when  this  contiguity  has  been 
brought  about,  then  chemical  combination  is  the  activity  of 
violent  attraction,  resulting  in  a  kind  of  union  or  combination 
the  most  intimate  and  the  most  absolute  which  is  known  or 
can  be  conceived.  Indeed,  so  close  and  so  intimate  are  the 
unions  effected  by  Chemical  Force,  that  it  is  really  not  possible 
in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge  to  conceive  the  ultimate 
nature  of  them.* 

Two  facts,  however,  respecting  Chemical  Force  are  certainly 
known.  One  of  these  facts  is,  that  the  unions  it  effects  do  not 
depend  on  mere  mass,  but  are  essentially  selective — that  they 
are  possible  only  between  certain  kinds  of  Atoms,  and  are 
comparatively  easy  or  comparatively  difficult  between  other 
Atoms  according  to  relations  which  we  cannot  understand,  but 
which,  for  the  want  of  a  better  word,  are  called  Affinities.  The 
other  fact  respecting  these  unions  which  we  know  is,  that  they 
are  absolutely  governed  by  curious  numerical  relations  which 
are  fixed  and  unalterable,  or  which,  if  they  vary  at  all,  vary 
according  to  some  other  numerical  rule,  which  seems  generally, 
if  not  always,  to  be  a  rule  of  exact  multiple  proportion.  It  is 
the  first  of  these  two  facts  which  is  perhaps  the  highest  mys- 

*  Sir  B.  Brodie,  in  his  interesting,  but,  I  venture  to  think,  obscure  Lecture  on 
"  Ideal  Chemistry,"  published  in  1880,  has  said  that  whilst  "  various  hypotheses, 
both  metaphysical  and  atomic,  have  been  framed  to  explain  what  (chemical)  combi- 
nation consists  in,  such  hypotheses  have  not  thrown  the  slightest  light  upon  the 
question."  Yet  in  the  same  Lecture  he  makes  two  contributions  towards  an  ex- 
planation— both  of  them  illustrating  the  hopelessness  of  the  task.  u  Combination," 
he  says,  "  is  the  operation  by  which  matter  is  packed  into  space."  Again,  he  says 
that  "  we  must  enlarge  our  view  of  the  nature  of  combination,  so  as  to  include  under 
this  term  not  only  the  combination  of  matter  with  matter,  but  the  combination  also 
of  matter  with  space."  I  presume  this  must  mean  the  combination  of  ponderable 
matter  with  the  luminiferous  medium  which  is  supposed  to  occupy  all  space.  In  any 
other  sense  a  combination  of  matter  with  space  seems  devoid  of  any  intelligible 
meaning.  On  the  other  hand,  although  it  is  possible  and  even  probable  that  the 
"  Ether  "  may  play  some  part  in  chemical  combination,  no  light  is  thrown  upon  the 
whole  operation  by  the  mere  suggestion  of  so  vague  a  proposition. 


ON    THE    ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER.         13! 

tery  of  all.  The  selective  attraction  towards  each  other  which 
exists  between  the  Atoms  of  particular  substances  is  called 
their  Chemical  Affinity.  But  affinity,  like  so  many  other  words 
of  science  as  well  as  of  common  speech,  is  a  word  which,  when 
applied  to  material  Atoms,  involves  a  metaphor.  Affinity  be- 
tween living  things  means,  ordinarily,  blood-relationship.  Af- 
finity between  minds  and  characters  means,  in  a  secondary 
sense,  a  likeness  of  dispositions  or  a  similarity  of  pursuits.  In 
neither  of  these  senses  can  Affinity  be  applied  to  the  ultimate 
particles  of  Matter.  But  Chemical  Affinity  is  not  only  different 
from,  but  it  presents  a  positive  contrast  with,  Affinity  as  under- 
stood in  any  sense  analogous  to  these.  The  Affinity  of  Atoms 
is  not  only  not  founded  upon  likeness,  but  one  of  its  common- 
est characteristics  is  that  it  is  founded  on  unlikeness  and  on 
contrast.  Homogeneousness  is  favorable  to  mere  mechanical 
mixtures.  But  heterogeneousness  is  essential  to  most  forms  of 
chemical  combination.  Atoms  combine,  for  the  most  part,  not 
because  they  are  like,  but  because  they  are  radically  different. 
It  is  now  held  that  Atoms  of  the  same  kind  may  combine  like 
Atoms  of  a  different  kind.  But  it  seems  doubtful  if  the  Atoms 
in  this  case  are  not  rather  cohering  than  combined.  At  all 
events,  in  the  language  of  Chemistry,  affinity  means  nothing 
but  the  mutual  tendency  to  combine — a  tendency  which  may 
be  so  vehement  as  to  be  explosive,  or  so  gentle  as  to  be  one  of 
the  slowest  and  most  imperceptible  operations  of  Nature.  And 
then,  when  Chemical  Affinity  has  had  its  way,  we  have  a  com- 
bination which  is  as  mysterious  as  its  cause.  It  is  fundament- 
ally different  from  a  mere  mixture  or  aggregation.  It  is  essen- 
tially a  Structure  with  energies  as  definite  as  its  proportions. 
Under  its  influence  the  separate  components  may  drop  all  the 
characteristics  and  all  the  properties  by  which  they  were  recog- 
nized before ;  and  the  new  compound  acquires  other  properties 
and  other  characteristics  entirely  different  from  those  of  any  of 
its  parts. 

Now,  amid  all  the  mysteries  involved  in  these  facts — amid  all 
the  questions  and  problems  which  they  suggest,  and  which  are 
wholly  unsolved,  and  are  perhaps  insoluble, — there  is  one 
characteristic  of  them  which  stands  out  as  clearly  as  the  light 
of  day.  These  complicated  automatic  Forces  of  Nature  are  of 


132  THE   UNITY  OF   NATURE. 

such  a  character  as  to  lend  themselves  to  artificial  manipulation 
in  measures  and  degrees  of  inexhaustible  variety.  In  them, 
more  conspicuously,  perhaps,  than  anywhere  else  in  Nature, 
the  most  absolute  fixedness  and  rigidity  of  "  laws  "  is  seen  to 
be  not  only  compatible  with,  but  to  be  the  one  essential  condi- 
tion of,  that  largest  freedom  in  the  ultimate  agencies  of  Mind 
which  we  can  only  think  of  as  a  freedom  outside  the  physical 
chain  of  cause  and  of  effect,  but  with  boundless  opportunity 
and  means  of  acting  upon  that  chain,  and  bending  it  to 
Purpose.  Nowhere  in  Nature  have  such  powerful  and  subtle 
instruments  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  Will.  We  see  and 
know  this  to  be  not  only  a  possibility  but  a  fact  by  our  own 
very  limited  experience  in  the  Laboratory.  We  see  it  and 
know  it  by  the  immense  resources  which  even  a  very  imperfect 
knowledge  of  Chemical  Force  has  placed,  and  is  daily  more 
and  more  placing  in  our  hands.  We  see  it  and  know  it,  above 
all,  in  the  nature  of  the  methods  by  which  these  resources  are 
made  available,  and  in  which  they  consist.  Do  we  wish  to 
break  up  some  natural  substance  into  the  elements  of  which  it 
is  composed,  so  that  we  may  have  some  one  of  these  elements 
separated  from  the  rest,  and  so  that  it  may  serve  some  purpose 
which  it  will  not  serve  when  it  is  combined  ?  We  have  only  to 
introduce  into  the  compound  which  we  seek  to  break  up  some 
new  element  to  which  the  Affinity  of  our  desired  element  is 
stronger,  and  thereupon  that  desired  element  rushes  to  the 
nearer  friend  we  offer  to  its  embrace,  and  leaves  all  others 
with  which  it  had  been  associated  before.  Do  we  wish,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  make  some  artificial  combination  of  elements 
which  are  generally  separate  in  Nature,  and  so  to  produce  a 
substance  which  we  know  will  have  special  properties,  and 
therefore  some  special  use  ?  Exactly  the  same  method  in  prin- 
ciple must  be  pursued.  We  bring  together  and  place  in  close 
contact,  under  known  conditions  of  heat  or  of  solution,  ele» 
ments  which  we  know  to  have  mutual  Affinities,  and  which 
under  those  conditions  will  have  those  Affinities  set  free  to  act. 
And  then,  these  conditions  having  been  brought  about,  the 
chemical  Affinities  exert  their  force,  and  forthwith  some  new 
substance  is  born  into  the  world  with  powers  and  energies  the 
most  subtle  or  the  most  tremendous.  In  the  Inorganic  world 


ON   THE   ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF   MATTER.         133 

it  may  dissolve  the  most  refractory  metals,  or  rend  asunder  the 
hardest  rocks.  In  the  Organic  world  its  very  touch  may  be 
death  to  every  living  thing,  or  it  may  exercise  on  the  Organism 
the  most  blessed  virtue, — restoring  the  wasted  tissues — re- 
animating the  vital  flame, — and  carrying  into  the  most  secret 
recesses  of  Life  the  sweet  influences  of  health.  Such  is  the 
wondrous  alchemy  of  Chemical  Combination  in  the  hands  of 
Knowledge  and  of  Power.  Thus,  whether  our  object  be  to 
tear  asunder  or  to  put  together — whether  it  be  analysis  or  syn- 
thesis— the  mysterious  forces  and  laws  of  Chemical  Affinity 
give  us  the  method  and  the  means  of  attaining  a  wide  range  of 
appropriate  purposes  and  intentions:  and  exactly  in  proportion 
to  our  knowledge  of  those  Affinities,  and  of  the  conditions 
under  which  they  can  be  brought  to  bear  upon  each  other,  by 
artificial  combinations  on  the  one  hand  and  by  artificial  dissolu- 
tions on  the  other,  we  attain  to  higher  and  higher  degrees  of 
command  over  the  most  complex  and  the  most  powerful 
agencies  in  Nature. 

Now  it  is  precisely  in  this  aspect  of  the  manipulation  of 
Chemical  Affinity,  or  of  the  artificial  uses  to  which  it  is  put,  that 
the  System  of  Nature  demands  for  the  explanation  of  its 
phenomena  the  largest  element  of  Anthropopsychism.  It  is 
quite  true,  indeed,  that  in  this,  as  in  every  other  department  of 
Physical  Causation,  there  are  a  thousand  cases  in  which 
Chemical  Affinity  is  seen  acting  under  no  obvious  control — 
acting  by  itself  and  of  itself — or,  as  it  were,  by  accident.  And 
these  cases  are  in  the  highest  degree  instructive  ;  because  they 
carry  us  on  from  the  proposition  that  Chemical  Force  is  a 
wonderful  instrument  of  Purpose,  to  the  farther  proposition 
that  when  it  is  not  under  the  control  of  Purpose — when  it  is 
not  manipulated  and  managed — it  would  lead  to  nothing  but 
universal  inertia,  and  universal  deadness.  Chemical  Affinity 
when  left  to  itself  would  lead  to  saturation — to  stable  combina- 
tions— and  these  are  incompatible  with  movement  and  with 
Life.  In  a  former  chapter  I  have  alluded  to  an  example  which 
illustrates  this  distinction  well.  When  oxygen  combines 
chemically  with  metallic  iron  and  forms  the  red  dust  with 
which  we  are  all  familiar,  there  is  no  suggestion  of  artifice  or 
of  structure.  What  is  really  artificial  is  not  the  combination, 


134  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

but  the  separation  between  oxygen  and  iron,  because  pure 
metallic  iron,  uncombined  with  oxygen,  is  one  of  the  rarest  of 
all  substances  in  Nature,  and  its  very  existence  now  as  a 
common  material  in  the  world  is  due  entirely  to  the  artificial 
handling  of  Chemical  Affinities  by  the  ingenuity  of  Man. 
When  left  to  itself  in  the  presence  of  oxygen  as  that  element 
exists  in  a  damp  atmosphere,  it  speedily  returns  to  what  may 
be  called  its  natural  condition,  which  is  that  of  chemical  com- 
bination with  oxygen  in  the  form  of  rust.  So  also  when  iron  is 
left  to  its  natural  affinities  in  the  bowels  of  the  Earth,  and 
when  under  heat  it  comes  in  contact  with  another  very  common 
element  there,  namely,  sulphur,  it  enters  into  that  combination 
which  is  so  well  known  as  pyrites  or  sulphuret  of  iron. 

This  is  one  of  the  innumerable  cases  of  chemical  combination 
which,  when  each  of  them  is  taken  singly,  and  considered  by 
itself,  seems  to  be  purposeless  and  purely  accidental.  It 
exhibits,  indeed,  the  peculiar  facts  of  Chemical  Affinity  in  all 
their  mystery,  because  we  have  no  knowledge  of  the  causes 
which  determine  the  mutual  attractiveness  of  oxygen  and  iron, 
nor  of  the  real  nature  of  the  coalescence,  nor  of  the  causes 
which  give  to  the  combination  of  these  two  elements  physical 
properties  which  are  totally  different  from  those  which  either  of 
them  possesses  when  alone.  But  there  is  no  appearance  of 
these  two  elements  being  brought  together  as  k  were  artifi- 
cially, so  as  to  produce  the  particular  substance  which  we  know 
as  the  red  rust  of  iron.  As  the  world  is  constituted  k  is  inevi- 
table that  they  should  come  together.  Oxygen  is  present  in 
large  quantities  in  every  place  to  which  either  water  or  atmos- 
pheric air  -can  penetrate,  and  it  is  hardly  less  ubiquitous  as  an 
element  in  other  combinations,  even  when  both  air  and  water 
may  be  totally  excluded.  Iron  is  the  most  widely  distributed 
of  all  the  older  known  metals.  Mind,  therefore,  has  no  obvi- 
ous share  in  such  chemical  combinations  as  the  rust  of  iron. 
The  same  thing  may  be  said,  probably,  of  all  the  other  chemi- 
cal combinations  which  exist  in  that  Province  of  Nature  which 
is  called  the  Inorganic.  All  the  rocks  and  minerals,  all  the 
gases  and  the  vapors  of  which  the  Earth  is  composed,  are  mixt- 
ures or  combinations  of  about  some  63  elementary  substances, 
according  to  the  Chemical  Affinities  which  prevail  between 


ON   THE   ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF   MATTER.         135 

them  under  various  conditions  of  dryness,  or  of  solution,  of 
dispersion,  or  of  condensation,  or  of  heat  and  pressure.  The 
most  precious  and  the  most  beautiful  resulting  compounds,  the 
01  es  of  metals,  the  porphyries,  and  the  granites,  and  the  tinted 
marbles,  the  crystals,  and  the  gems— the  getting  and  the  show- 
ing of  which  have  in  all  ages  been  one  of  the  pursuits  and  one 
of  the  pleasures  of  Mankind, — have  all  been  apparently  pro- 
duced by  accident  amidst  the  throes  and  pressures  of  gravita- 
tion, the  fires  of  combustion,  and  the  eruptions  of  volcanic 
force.  They  are  found  where  these  agencies  have  happened  to 
place  them  and  to  form  them, — sometimes  itady  for  human 
use,  at  other  times  requiring  the  most  laborious  exertion  to 
mine  them,  and  to  reduce  them  to  the  forms  in  which  they  can 
be  made  available.  Each  individual  case  of  chemical  combina- 
tion in  all  its  immense  variety  of  products,  may  seem  to  be  a 
fortuitous  concourse  of  Atoms  brought  about  by  the  interaction 
and  play  of  Forces  blind  in  themselves,  and  blindly  acting 
under  no  special  or  visible  direction  towards  an  intelligible 
end. 

In  this  respect  each  bit  of  the  Inorganic  world  may  be  like 
each  bit  of  some  great  picture.  A  little  pigment  adhering  to  a 
patch  of  canvas  may  be  all  that  could  be  seen  in  the  one  case. 
Some  common  elements  naturally  uniting  may  be  all  that  is 
visible  in  the  other.  But  both  these  aspects  of  the  facts  would 
be  alike  delusive.  It  is  only  when  we  stand  back  from  a  pict- 
ure at  a  sufficient  distance  to  take  in  the  whole,  that  the  sepa- 
rate patches  of  adhesive  paint  take  their  place  as  component 
parts  in  one  general  effect.  In  losing  their  significance  as  sub- 
stance or  material,  they  acquire  a  new  significance  as  Art  or 
Work.  So  it  is  in  Nature,  when  we  stand  back  from  details  and 
take  a  general  view  of  the  Chemistry  even  of  the  Inorganic 
world.  There  are  a  thousand  things  in  that  Chemistry  which 
when  looked  at  by  themselves  seem  to  be  the  merest  accident ; 
and  yet  when  we  do  stand  back  from  them  and  look  at  them  in 
their  proper  place,  we  see  that  they  fit  in  with  other  things  of  a 
different  order,  in  endless  connections  of  harmonious  coinci- 
dence. They  are  accidents  as  we  call  them,  but  they  are 
accidents,  perhaps,  without  which  we  can  see  that  the  condi- 
tions of  human  life  would  have  been  different,  less  happy,  less 


136  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

convenient, — without  which  Man's  art  could  never  have  been 
what  it  is, — without  which  he  could  never  have  built  such 
houses  or  such  ships,  or  constructed  such  machines  as  are  now 
the  indispensable  instruments  of  his  command  over  the  re- 
sources of  Nature. 

And  even  more  than  this  may  be  said  of  some  of  those  curi- 
ous chemical  facts  of  the  Inorganic  world  which,  in  themselves, 
may  seem  most  fortuitous.  The  air  we  breathe  and  the  water 
which  we  drink  are,  the  one  a  mechanical  mixture,  and  the 
other  a  chemical  combination,  on  the  specific  properties  of 
which  all  Life,  as  it  is  constituted  on  Earth,  depends.  We  have 
no  clue  to  the  process  by  which  our  atmosphere  has  been  made 
up  of  gases  which  are  not  in  chemical  combination,  but  are 
only  diffused  or  mechanically  mixed,  whilst  yet,  like  a  chemical 
combination,  the  mixture  is  one  of  exact  and  definite  propor- 
tions. It  does  not  seem  as  if  this  process  could  be  purely  phys- 
ical— that  is  to  say,  the  mechanical  result  of  the  Physical  Forces 
acting  by  themselves.  There  is  no  known  law,  in  this  sense, 
by  which  such  a  result  could  have  accidentally  come  about. 
But  we  have  a  clue,  and  a  very  clear  one,  to  the  "  reason  why  " 
this  arrangement  should  be  as  it  is.  Oxygen,  when  alone,  has 
such  fierce  and  unsatisfied  affinities  with  other  substances  that 
if  this  gas  were  pure  or  undiluted  no  Organic  structure  could 
stand  against  it.  And  so,  in  atmospheric  air  it  is  toned  down 
and  softened,  as  it  were,  by  a  large  admixture  and  diffusion  of 
another  gas,  nitrogen^  which  is  comparatively  inert,  and  then  to 
both  are  added  in  much  smaller  proportion  another  element, 
carbon,  which  is  the  food  of  Plants,  and  an  indispensable  in- 
gredient in  all  Organic  structures.  Nor  is  it  less  clear  why  this 
mixture  should  be  established  in  fixed  proportions.  Any  varia- 
tion in  these  would  throw  into  confusion  all  the  laws  affecting 
the  growth  and  respiration  of  the  whole  animal  and  vegetable 
world  Whether  we  regard  these  structures  as  adapted  to  the 
atmosphere  or  the  atmosphere  as  adapted  to  them,  there  can 
be  no  question  of  the  relations  of  Unity  which  prevail  between 
them,  nor  can  there  be  any  question  that  these  adaptive  rel 
tions  are  not  the  work  of  chance.  Again,  in  the  compositi 
and  in  the  properties  of  water  we  have  a  still  more  striking  c 
ample  both  of  the  obscure  nature  and  of  the  wonderful  results 


ON    THE    ELEMENTARY    CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER.          137 

of  Chemical  Affinity,  as  well  as  of  the  powerful  instrumentality 
which  it  affords  to  Knowledge  and  to  Power.  That  water,  with 
its  many  special  and  peculiar  properties,  which  make  it  the 
great  natural  antagonist  of  fire,  should  consist  of  nothing  but 
two  gases,  one  of  which  is  the  most  inflammable  of  all  sub- 
stances, and  the  other  of  which  is  the  great  cause  and  agent  in 
all  combustion, — this  is,  indeed,  a  fact  which  may  well  give  us 
a  high  estimate  of  the  mystery  involved  in  the  transforming 
power  of  Chemical  Combination.  And  in  the  width  and  sweep 
of  that  transforming  power  we  see  the  indefinite  room  which  is 
afforded  by  it  to  special  arrangement  and  manipulation. 

In  the  working  and  management  of  this  great  fount  and 
source  of  Energy,  then,  Nature  is  intensely  anthropopsychic. 
That  is  to  say,  it  is  full  to  overflowing  of  combinations  which 
have  all  the  characters  of  manufacture  and  of  Art.  Water, 
without  which  our  Earth  would  be  a  desert,  and  our  own  bodies 
would  be  dust,  is  an  article  which  can  be  manufactured  in  the 
Laboratory  even  more  purely  than  it  is  manufactured  in  Na- 
ture ;  but  it  can  only  be  manufactured  by  first  isolating  the  two 
constituent  gases,  and  then  by  bringing  them  together  under 
the  conditions  in  which  alone  they  can  combine  to  form  the  new 
and  totally  dissimilar  substance  whose  various  and  complicated 
properties  make  it  one  of  the  prime  necessities  of  Life. 
^  It  is  a  favorite  item  in  the  belief  of  many  Evolutionists  that 

i'*»n/i  in  the  Ocean  all  Life  began.     And  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that 

I    even  now,  when  the  evolution  of  Organic  Life  has  run  a  long 

course,  the  Ocean  is  far  more  rich  in  animal  Life  than  the  solid 

Earth.     There  is  no  zone  or  region  of  the  Sea  which  does  not 

<v-iy  ,  swarm  with  Life.  Its  very  substance  is  often,  as  we  know, 
luminous  with  creatures  whose  numbers  must  exceed  all  our 
-  standards  of  numerical  comparison.  __Not  all  the  grains  of  sand 
on  all  the  shores  and  on  all  the  deserts  of  the  Globe — not  all 
the  visible  stars  of  heaven  can  approach  their  multitude.  The 
very  stones  which  the  Sea  covers  for  only  a  portion  of  the  day 
-fiuuA-  are  encrusted  with  innumerable  hosts,  whilst  all  the  fronds  of 
its  vegetation  and  every  square  inch  of  its  various  deposits  are 
full  of  legions  of  living  things.  Nor  are  the  creatures  which 
swarm  in  the  Ocean  creatures  only  of  a  low  type  of  Organiza- 
tion. They  belong  to  every  Order  and  to  every  Class  from  the 


138  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

'lowest  to  the  highest.  Living  together  in  close  communion, 
sometimes  as  each  others'  guests  and  hosts,  we  have  in  the  Sea 
living  things  with  no  visible  structure,  but  with  the  wonderful 
power  of  separating  from  the  water  the  almost  infinitesimal  per- 
centage of  lime  and  of  silex  which  it  holds  in  solution,  and  of 
building  them  up  into  exquisite  forms  of  beauty:  other  living 
things  with  a  high  and  very  obvious  structure,  which  have  the 
same  power  of  building  homes  and  houses  for  themselves  of 
another  kind :  others  again  whose  own  external  skeleton  is 
more  complicated  than  the  finest  jointed  armor  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  whose  plates  and  scales  are  yet  so  arranged  that 
each  can  grow  round  its  own  margin,  and  retain  its  relative 
place  in  the  enlargement  of  the  whole  :  others  yet  again  in  whose 
close  articulations  this  operation  is  impossible,  and  which  there- 
fore have  been  given  the  power  of  extricating  their  own  body 
from  its  coat  and  panoply  of  mail,  and  of  reproducing  the  whole 
every  year  from  the  surrounding  waters.  Then,  again,  on  all 
these  creatures,  more  or  less,  there  are  others  in  innumerable 
multitudes  which  grow  like  plants  and  which  bud  like  flowers ; 
whilst  around  and  overhead  we  have  the  earliest  members  of 
the  Vertebrata  in  immense  variety, — together  with  gigantic  rep- 
resentatives of  the  Class,  Mammalia,  concealed  under  the  out- 
ward form  of  fishes — some  of  them  having  brains  nearest  in 
proportionable  size  to  the  brain  of  Man.  Nor  are  there  wanting 
creatures  which  seem  links  and  passages  from  marine  to  terres- 
trial life — the  Dugongs,  the  Manatees  and  Seals,  which  are 
more  or  less  amphibious,  and  some  of  which  have  limbs  seem- 
ingly on  the  way  from  fins  to  legs.  It  is  not  wonderful,  there- 
fore, that  the  Sea  should  be  regarded  .as  the  mother  of  all  flesh. 
Water,  in  itself,  constitutes  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  sub- 
stance of  all  Organisms,  and  the  life  of  most  creatures  living  in 
the  Sea  entirely  depends  on  the  capacity  of  water  to  hold  in 
solution  a  certain  adequate  amount  of  free  oxygen  wholly  sepa- 
rate from  that  proportion  of  the  same  gas  which  enters  into  its 
own  chemical  composition.  The  gills  of  fishes  and  the  various 
breathing  apparatus  of  other  marine  Organisms  have  no  power 
to  decompose  water — that  is  to  say,  to  separate  the  oxygen  from 
its  chemical  union  with  hydrogen.  They  can  only  appropriate 
the  free  or  uncombined  oxygen,  which  is  dissolved  or  held  as  a 


ON   THE    ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER.         139 

mechanical  mixture  in  the  water.  All  marine  life,  therefore, 
depends  on  this  property  of  water — that  besides  or  over  and 
above  the  amount  of  oxygen  which  enters  into  its  own  compo- 
sition, it  has  power  also  to  hold  in  solution  another  proportion 
of  the  same  gas  in  a  condition  which  leaves  it  free  to  enter  into 
a  separate  combination  with  the  circulating  fluids  of  living 
creatures. 

Here  we  have  a  cycle  of  adapted  relations  between  the  Or- 
/  ganic  and  the  Inorganic  which  is  only  one  of  many.  Again, 
these  relations  cannot  be  accidental,  and  we  see  that  the  "  fir- 
mament of  waters,"  which  covers  by  far  the  largest  portion  of 
our  Globe's  surface,  has  a  constitution  and  properties  which  must 
have  been  determined  before  Life  began,  but  which,  neverthe- 
less, had  anticipatory  relations  to  that  Life  which  was  to  be. 
And  yet  those  relations  are  not  the  simple  relations  of  physical 
cause  and  of  effect,  for  water  does  not  of  itself  generate  Life, 
nor  can  it  hold  Life  in  solution  as  it  can  hold  the  salts  of  iodine 
and  of  potassium.  The  Intelligibility  of  Nature  demands  that 
we  should  recognize  in  these  relations  the  work  of  Chemical  Af- 
finity in  the  Inorganic  Province,  working  under  conditions  an- 
alogous to  those  under  which  we  can  ourselves  work  it,  when  we 

»*»i»^*^»«"<™"-"-1*1-— ^^ ^^B.^-— -""'•^•""•'"•-^"""*— —>^""i™**-— "•*"*'^M*«^ 

know  and  use  the  methods  which  it  affords  to  our  own  Intelli- 
gence. 

"Toothing,  indeed,  can  be  more  instructive  than  those  methods, 
or  the  principles  which  they  involve.  For  just  as  in  mechanics 
the  storage  and  the  control  and  the  distribution  of  Force  by 
human  device,  show  that  the  most  absolute  and  rigid  laws  are 
the  best  servants  of  Contrivance,  so  in  chemical  science  the  same 
great  principle  receives  a  yet  more  signal  illustration.  It  was 
the  Chemistry  of  Nature  which  long  concealed  from  Man  not  a 
few  of  the  most  valuable  materials  of  his  industry,  and  it  was 
only  when  he  discovered  how  richly  that  Chemistry  lends  itself 
to  his  own  management  and  control  that  he  came  into  possession 
of  them.  One  principal  part  of  the  history  of  Civilization  is  the 
history  of  the  chemistry  of  the  metals.  There  is  a  deep  signifi- 
cance in  that  classification  of  the  stages  of  human  progress 
which  has  been  founded  on  the  successive  use  of  Implements  of 
stone  and  of  bronze  and  of  iron.  So  completely  do  the  laws  of 
Chemical  Affinity  when  uncontrolled  cover  up  and  conceal  the 


140  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

metals,  that  even  now  for  the  most  part  we  forget  how  many, 
how  various,  and  how  curious  they  are.  Our  common  impres- 
sion would  be  that  of  the  various  substances  in  Nature  a  small 
minority  are  metallic.  Whereas,  on  the  contrary,  the  fact  is  that 
of  the  sixty-three  elementary  substances  into  which,  according 
to  our  present  knowledge,  all  material  combinations  can  be  re- 
duced by  chemical  analysis,  the  great  majority — some  forty- 
eight — are  metals.  The  progress  of  chemical  science  is  discov- 
ering for  some  of  these  metals  refined  uses  and  applications 
which  are  already  numerous,  and  which  may  become  more  nu- 
merous from  age  to  age.  But  in  respect  to  the  greater  propor- 
tion of  these  metallic  elements,  the  utility  of  them  lies  in  the 
natural  combinations  in  which  they  are  actually  found.  Potas- 
sium is  of  little  or  no  use  except  in  the  form  of  Potash.  Sodium 
is  of  little  or  no  use  except  in  the  form  of  Soda,  or  of  the  chlo- 
ride of  Soda,  which  is  common  Salt.  And  so  in  a  great  majority 
of  cases  the  metals  are  valuable  only  in  the  combinations  which 
they  form  with  substances  which  are  non-metallic. 

Of  all  the  metals,  there  is  only  one  which  in  Nature  is  gener- 
ally found  in  the  metallic  state,  either  pure  or  with  such  slight 
IfJtJ^  alloy  as  not  to  detract  from  its  lustre  and  its  beauty.  That 
metal  is  gold.  But  although  on  this  account  it  was  probably 
the  very  earliest  of  all  the  metals  to  attract  the  attention  of  Man- 
kind, and  although  on  the  same  account  it  has  been  taken  from 
the  earliest  ages  as  the  chief  standard  of  value,  and  is  pre-emi- 
nently called  the  "precious  metal,"  it  is  in  respect  to  everything 
except  ornament  the  least  useful  metal  existing  in  the  world. 
As  regards  the  other  metals,  it  is  Chemistry  alone  which  ex- 
plains the  order  of  precedence  in  which  they  have  been  discov- 
ered and  applied  to  use.  It  is  Chemistry  alone  which  explains 
how  it  came  to  pass  that  the  most  useful  of  all  metals,  iron,  is 
at  once  the  commonest,  the  most  widely  distributed,  found  in 
the  greatest  masses,  and  yet  was  the  last  to  be  known  and  to  be 
separated  from  the  other  elements  with  which  it  is  ordinarily 
combined.  The  explanation  is  very  simple.  The  commonest 
ores  of  iron  are  those  in  which  the  metal  is  combined  with  oxy- 
gen or  with  carbonic  acid.  In  both  these  cases  the  combination 
has  no  metallic  appearance,  and  the  invaluable  properties  of  the 
metal  are  neutralized  and  concealed.  On  the  other  hand,  the 


ON    THE    ELEMENTARY    CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER.         14! 

principal  metal  which  came  earlier  into  use,  copper,  is,  though 
much  less  common  than  iron,  more  usually  combined  with  sul- 
phur, and  in  this  form  the  metallic  lustre  and  appearance  is 
rather  enhanced  than  injured.  There  are  no  more  beautiful 
ores  than  the  sulphurets  of  copper ;  none  more  calculated  to  at- 
tract the  notice  of  primeval  Man.  It  is  true  that  iron  is  also 
very  commonly  combined  with  sulphur,  and  that  the  sulphurets 
of  iron  are  as  obviously  metallic  as  those  of  copper ;  but  it  is 
equally  true  that  the  affinity  between  iron  and  sulphur  is  so  ve- 
hement that  it  is  most  difficult  to  separate  them  completely ;  and 
that  the  smallest  percentage  of  sulphur  is  destructive  of  the 
most  useful  properties  of  iron.  Hence  it  came  that  a  metallur- 
gical operation  which  may  seem  to  imply  very  advanced  knowl- 
edge, namely,  the  formation  of  an  alloy  between  copper  and  tin, 
and  the  application  of  this  alloy  to  the  manufacture  of  imple- 
ments, was  an  operation  which  apparently  in  all  countries  long 
preceded  the  much  more  simple  and  the  much  more  effective 
operations  which  suffice  for  the  production  of  iron  and  steel. 

All  these  operations  are  in  their  nature  chemical,  and  each 
one  of  them  illustrates  how  Chemical  Affinity  is  the  most  sup- 
ple and  subtle  of  all  tools  in  the  hands  of  Knowledge  and  of 
Purpose.  One  fundamental  principle  lies  at  the  root  of  all,  and 
that  is  that  the  elements  which  are  to  be  broken  up  from  some 
existing  combination,  must  be  presented  to  other  elements  in 
the  order  of  new  affinities,  and  under  such  conditions,  first  of 
contact  and  then  of  heat  or  of  solution,  that  these  affinities  have 
the  freest  opportunities  to  act.  Thus  if  we  wish  to  separate 
iron  from  the  oxygen  or  the  carbonic  acid  with  which  it  is  com- 
bined in  Nature,  we  have  only  to  melt  it  in  contact  with  some 
other  element  which  has  a  still  greater  affinity  than  itself  for 
these  substances.  Under  this  discipline  of  arrangement  they 
can  be  made  to  leave  the  metal,  and  combine  in  preference 
with  other  bodies. 

Now,  arrangements  of  this  kind  are  exclusively  the  work 
of  Mind,  and  it  is  in  the  conceiving  of  them,  and  in  the  effect- 
ing of  them,  that  its  supremacy  consists.  The  selection  of  the 
elements  which  are  to  be  placed  in  contact,  and  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  chemical  or  physical  conditions  under  which  that 
contact  is  to  be  effected, — these  are  the  essential  operations 


142  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

which  must  be  conducted  under  the  guidance  of  knowledge,  and 
with  a  view  to  the  attainment  of  a  specific  purpose.     For  the 
attainment  of  any  purpose  Man  must  use  the  laws  of  Nature  as 
he  finds  them,  and  those  laws,  as  regards  Chemistry,  demand 
that  he  should  know  the  facts,  and  know  how  to  use  the  facts, 
respecting  the  selective  affinities  of  one  element  for  another. 
In  order  to  separate,  he  must  know  how  to  join  ;  and  conversely, 
in   order   to  join,  he  must  know  how  to  separate.     For  the 
fundamental  principle  of  all  such  operations  is,  that  very  often 
the  separation  of  one  element  can  only  be  effected  by  contriv- 
ing for  it  some  new  combination  with  others.     Substitution  is 
the  key  to  all  the  higher  products  of  Chemical  Analysis,  and  to 
all  the  higher  methods  of  Chemical  Synthesis  alike.     Many  of 
the  results  thus  attained  are  highly  artificial,  that  is  to  say,  that 
although  they  are  the  product  of  natural  affinities,  these  affini- 
ties are  brought  to  act  under  conditions  that  could  never  occur 
without  management  and  contrivance.     Thus,  to  take  a  par- 
ticular example,  the  metal  potassium  has  such  affinity  for  oxy- 
gen, that  it  cannot  be  reduced  to  the  metallic  state  nor  kept 
in  it,  except  by  very  elaborate  operations  and  precautions.     If 
this  metal  be  exposed  to  the  air,  it  rapidly  attracts  the  oxygen ; 
and  if  it  be  thrown  into  water,  the  combination  is  so  violent  in 
its   energy,  that   the  strange   spectacle  is  exhibited  of  water 
bursting  into  fierce  combustion.     This  is  a  very  simple  case, — 
the  case  of  an  element  which  under  purely  natural  conditions 
refuses  to  remain  uncombined.     But  exactly  the  same  princi- 
ple  applies   to   the   converse    case   of   innumerable  combina- 
tions in  which  the  elements  under  purely  natural  conditions 
tend  to  separate  and  cannot  long  be  held  together,  because 
they  have,  as  it  were,  been  compelled  to  unite  under  conditions 
which   are  highly  artificial.     These   artificial   conditions  very 
often  can  with  difficulty  be  maintained,  or  possibly  they  cannot 
be  maintained  at  all,  beyond  a  certain  time.     This  is  the  case 
with  many  compounds  in  the  mechanical  arts,  and  especially 
in  the  pharmacopoeia, — compounds  which,  being  thus  highly 
artificial,  are  consequently  liable  to  decomposition  and  decay. 
Xhemical  Affinity,  under  control,  was  employed  to  make  them  ; 
but  Chemical  Affinity,  escaping  from  control,  cannot  be  hin- 
dered from  unmaking  them  again.     All  such  compositions  have 


ON    THE    ELEMENTARY    CONSTITUTION    OF   MATTER.         143 

a  character  of  their  own.  In  one  sense  they  are  natural,  in 
another  sense  they  are  not.  They  have  all  been  made  by 
natural  laws,  but  they  belong  to  a  System  in  which  purely 
Physical  Causation  is  subordinate  and  not  supreme.  In  them 
the  laws  of  Chemical  Affinity  have  not  indeed  been  violated, 
but  they  have  been  manipulated.  They  have  been  made  to  do 
work  which  they  never  could  or  would  do  except  under  the 
discipline  of  Mind,  and  for  the  accomplishment  of  its  aims. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION    OF   MATTER     IN     RELATION    TO 
THE   ORGANIC. 

IN  the  last  chapter  we  have  seen  the  artificial  character  and 
aspect  of  the  comparatively  few  chemical  combinations  which 
Man  can  effect  in  the  Inorganic  Kingdom  of  Nature,  and  we 
have  seen  too  that  in  that  part  of  the  System  of  Nature  there 
are  some  mixtures  and  some  combinations  of  primary  magni- 
tude and  importance  which  seem  to  be  equally  artificial.  But 
there  is  another  great  Division  of  Nature  in  which  Man  cannot 
work  at  all,  and  yet  the  whole  of  which  is  occupied  by  combina- 
tions on  which  the  same  stamp  and  character  are  still  more  vis- 
ibly impressed.  This  is  the  Kingdom  of  the  Organic.  In  this 
Kingdom  all  the  chemical  combinations  which  are  employed 
are  in  the  highest  degree  artificial,  complicated,  and  what  chem- 
ists call  "  unstable."  Here  Chemical  Affinity  is  seen  working 
under,  as  it  were,  a  double  servitude.  It  is  called  upon  to 
make  up  certain  special  combinations  of  material,  in  order  that 
these  may  again  be  worked  up  into  special  structures  under  the 
power  of  that  other  and  higher  kind  of  Energy  which  we  know 
as  Life.  In  this  series  of  operations,  Chemical  Affinity  may 
well  be  called  by  the  title  which  is  the  traditional  title  of  the 
Popes  of  Rome.  It  is  the  "  Servus  Servorum  Dei." 

Here,  again,  in  order  to  see  clearly  wherein  the  Unity  of  Na- 
ture is  to  be  really  found,  we  must  observe  distinctions  which 
the  language  of  science  is  in  danger  of  confounding.  We  talk 
of  "  Organic  Chemistry,"  and  the  phrase  may  have  a  legitimate 
meaning,  if  it  be  properly  understood.  But  there  is  a  treacher- 
ous and  perilous  ambiguity  in  it.  It  is  curious  to  trace  the 
loose  and  deceptive  passages  of  meaning  by  which  phrases  of 
this  kind  are  made  to  introduce  and  perpetuate  the  grossest  fal- 
lacies. Organic  Chemistry  means  the  chemistry  of  Organs. 
But  the  chemistry  of  Organs  may  mean  either  of  two  very  differ* 


ON   THE   ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF    MATTER.         145 

ent  things.  It  may  mean  the  chemistry  which  makes  Organs, 
or  it  may  mean  the  chemistry  which  Organs  make.  Now,  in 
the  first  of  these  two  meanings  it  is  nonsense.  There  is  no 
mere  chemistry  which  can  make  an  Organ.  There  is  no  labor- 
atory which  can  turn  out,  or  build  up,  even  the  lowest  living 
Cell.  But  in  the  second  of  these  two  senses,  the  phrase  Or- 
ganic Chemistry  has  an  important  meaning.  Life,  as  the  En- 
ergy of  living  Organs,  has  undoubtedly  a  chemistry  of  its  own  ; 
that  is  to  say,  it  makes  up  compounds  which  no  other  agency 
can  make. 

But  before  examining  further  what  Organic  Chemistry  is,  in 
the  only  sense  in  which  it  corresponds  to  the  realities  of  Na- 
ture, let  us  examine  a  little  more  carefully  the  other  meaning  in 
which  it  corresponds  with  no  reality  at  all.  For  let  it  be  clearly 
understood  that  mere  Chemical  Affinity,  so  far  as  we  know,  can- 
not produce  any  "  Organism,"  however  simple  or  however  low. 
It  can  only  produce  the  material  substances  out  of  which,  by  a 
separate  process,  Organisms  are  formed.  Chemical  Affinity, 
again,  when  an  Organism  has  been  formed,  can  and  does 
produce,  under  the  special  kind  of  energy  to  which  that  struct- 
ure is  due,  and  which  is  indwelling  there,  new  combinations 
which  are  sometimes  called  '•  organic,"  not  because  they  have 
Organic  Structure  or  anything  approaching  to  it,  but  because 
living  Organisms  alone  can  make  them.  But,  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  word,  it  is  obvious  that  nothing  ought  to  be  called 
organic  which  has  not  itself  an  organic  structure.  Now  Chem- 
ical Affinity,  so  far  as  we  know,  can  give  rise  to  no  structure 
beyond  the  structure  of  the  lifeless  Molecule.  What  that  ele- 
'tnentarykind  of  structure  is  we  have  no  knowledge  until  we 
know  the  ultimate  nature  of  Chemical  Combination.  But  we 
know  that  it  is  not  a  structure  at  all  in  the  same  sense  in  which 
an  Organism  is  a  structure.  The  simplest  living  "  Cell," 
whether  of  vegetable  or  of  animal  Life,  is  a  structure  of  a  kind 
such  as  no  mere  chemistry  can  produce.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  substance  of  which  that  Cell  is  made  is  a  chemical  com- 
pound, and  generally  a  chemical  compound  of  the  most  compli- 
cated nature.  Moreover,  the  Cell  is  again  capable  of  calling 
upon  chemical  affinities  to  provide  for  it  new  material,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  to  take  away  from  it,  on  the  other  hand,  certain  old 
10 


146  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

material  in  the  form  of  degenerate  combinations  which  are 
waste.  Properly  speaking,  therefore,  there  is  no  chemistry  ex- 
cept the  chemistry  of  the  Inorganic,  although  the  unorganized 
or  elementary,  lifeless,  'and  comparatively  structureless  com- 
pounds which  chemistry  is  alone  competent  to  produce,  are 
the  necessary  materials  of  all  living  structures.  Accordingly, 
when  chemists  are  compelled  to  define  more  accurately  what 
they  mean  by  Organic  Chemistry,  they  are  obliged  to  confess 
that  all  they  mean  is  the  chemistry  of  the  "  Proteids,"  or  of  the 
"  Hydro-Carbons."  That  is  to  say,  it  is  the  chemistry  which 
produces  a  definite  series  of  compounds  (chiefly  of  Hydrogen 
and  Carbon),  which  Life  in  living  Organs  is  alone  competent 
to  produce.  IR  this  sense,  but  in  this  sense  alone,  Organic 
Chemistry  is  separate  from  other  chemistry — that  is  to  say,  it 
represents  a  separate  group  of  compounds — just  as  the  chemis- 
try of  the  "  Aniline  Dyes  "  is  separate  from  the  chemistry  of  the 
"  Alkaline  Metals,"  or  the  chemistry  of  the  "  Cyanogen  Com- 
pounds "  is  separate  from  both. 

Hence  we  see  the  futility  of  the  controversy  which  has  been 
so  keen  upon  the  question  whether  the  Chemistry  of  Life  is  or 
is  not  the  same  as  the  Chemistry  of  the  Inorganic.  In  one 
sense  it  is  the  same,  in  another  sense  it  is  different.  It  is  the 
same  in  so  far  as  the  elementary  substances  contained  in  living 
bodies,  and  in  the  products  of  living  bodies,  are  elements  iden- 
tical with  those  which  exist  in  lifeless  things.  It  is  different  in 
so  far  as  these  elements  are  worked  up  into  combinations  which 
are  effected  by  no  other  agent  than  Vitality,  and  exist  in  no 
other  department  of  Nature  except  that  of  living  things.  One 
of  the  great  peculiarities  connected  with  them  is  the  very  small 
number  of  the  elements  concerned,  and  the  extreme  and  subtle 
complexity  of  the  combinations  which  these  elements  are  made 
to  assume.  So  great  is  that  complexity,  that  it  escapes  all  the 
ordinary  formula  of  chemical  notation,  and  some  writers  now 
even  contend  that  it  casts  serious  doubt  on  at  least  some  parts 
of  the  Atomic  Hypothesis,  which  is  the  best  explanation  of  al- 
most all  other  chemical  combinations.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
is  no  reason  to  believe  that  in  the  compounds  which  are  called 
Organic  the  ultimate  laws  of  Chemical  Affinity  are  altered 
or  suspended.  The  impression  which  these  so-called  organic 


vftte        '  • 

ON   THE   ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF    MATTER.         147 

compounds  give  to  chemists  is  that  they  are  effected  on  the 
same  fundamental  principle  on  which  all  other  combinations 
are  effected,  and  that  is  the  principle  of  the  ultimate  elements 
being  so  brought  together  that  they  are  compelled  into  arrange- 
ments amongst  each  other,  and  substitutions  for  each  other,  in- 
to which  they  never  are  compelled  except  under  the  energies  of 
Life.  The  phrase  which  chemists  always  adopt,  and  are  obliged 
to  adopt,  in  order  to  convey  to  others  the  image  or  impression 
which  these  compounds  leave  upon  the  mind  is  this, — that  they 
are  "  built  up." 

Here  then,  again,  as  in  so  many  other  departments  of  science, 
we  find  that  the  anthropopsychic  or  teleological  interpretation 
of  Nature  is  the  inseparable  and  insuperable  result.  Nor  is  it 
less  curious  to  observe  how  even  the  apparent  exceptions,  which 
are  seized  upon  and  dwelt  upon  as  proving  that  Life  has  no 
special  chemistry  of  its  own,  are  exceptions  which,  when  cross- 
examined,  give  evidence  against  their  Counsel.  We  are  told 
sometimes  in  great  triumph  that  certain  products  which  are 
called  Organic  can  now  be  made  by  human  artifice  in  the  Lab- 
oratory. But  two  questions  have  to  be  asked  concerning  this 
boast,  and  in  both  of  them  the  answer  dispels  the  argument. 
The  first  question  is,  What  are  the  combinations  which  can  be 
thus  made  ?  and  the  second  question  is,  How  is  the  making  of 
them  effected  ? 

The  answer  to  the  first  of  these  questions  is,  that  no  frag- 
ment of  Matter  which  can  strictly  be  called  Organic — that  is  to 
say,  no  fragment  of  Matter  having  Organic  Structure — has  ever 
been  made  in  any  laboratory  by  the  hands  of  Man.  What  he 
has  succeeded  in  making  has  been  some  one  or  two  of  the  un- 
organized compounds  which  living  Organs  make,  or  rather 
which  are  among  the  products  of  their  decomposition  and  de- 
cay. Urea,  one  of  the  waste  products  of  the  animal  Organism, 
is  the  principal  triumph  of  what  is  ambitiously  called  the  "  Or- 
ganic Chemistry  "  of  the  Laboratory.  There  is  a  hope  and  a 
promise,  indeed,  of  greater  triumphs  of  imitative  skill.  Some 
progress  seems  to  have  been  made  in  "  building  up "  in  the 
Laboratory  some  of  the  valuable  "  Alkaloids  "  which  enter  into 
the  composition  of  certain  vegetables.  But  none  of  these  suc- 
cesses of  chemical  manipulation,  even  if  they  were  multiplied  a 


14-8  THE   UNITY    OF   NATURE. 

hundredfold,  bring  us  one  step  nearer  to  the  manufacture  of 
anything  which  really  belongs  to  the  Kingdom  of  the  Organic. 
We  might  as  well  boast  of  making  an  "  Organic  "  compound 
when  we  have  made,  as  it  is  easy  to  do,  sulphuretted  hydrogen 
or  ammonia.  These,  too,  are  among  the  combinations  which 
are  Organic  in  the  sense  of  being  given  off  by  Organisms  either 
in  action  or  in  decay. 

But  the  answer  to  the  second  question  is  even  more  impor- 
tant than  this  answer  to  the  first.  How  has  Man  succeeded 
in  manufacturing  the  so-called  Organic  compound  of  urea? 
The  answer  is,  by  "  building  up."  By  careful  analysis  he  has 
first  ascertained  the  elements  of  which  it  is  composed,  and 
again  by  a  highly  artificial  and  elaborate  manipulation  of  those 
elements  he  has  got  them  to  combine  in  the  required  propor- 
tions. Is  not  this  an  analogy  which  strengthens  the  conclusion 
which  it  was  intended  to  refute  ?  For  just  as  Chemical  Affin- 
ity has  been  made  the  servant  of  a  little  knowledge  and  a  little 
skill  in  the  manufacture  of  urea,  so  to  all  appearance  has  it 
been  made  the  servant  of  knowledge  and  of  skill  which  by  com- 
parison is  infinite,  in  the  "  building  up  "  of  those  subtle,  deli- 
cate, "unstable,"  almost  evanescent  compounds  which  are  the 
requisite  materials  of  living  Organs. 

And  here  I  must  return  to  the  great  distinction  which  has 
already  been  referred  to,  but  which  cannot  be  too  constantly 
kept  in  mind.  Chemical  Composition  is  one  thing — Organic 
Structure  is  quite  another  thing.  And  if  "  building  up  "  is  the 
anthropopsychic  metaphor  which  chemists  are  compelled  to 
adopt  when  they  wish  to  express  the  process  by  which  the  mere 
substance  or  material  of  living  Organs  has  been  prepared,  with 
how  much  greater  force  must  this  analogy  be  applied  to  the 
farther  and  wholly  different  process  by  which  the  composite 
material  has  been  farther  "built  up"  and  woven  into  Organic 
Structures  ?  In  the  Inorganic  world,  indeed,  there  are  many 
arrangements  of  material  which  are  so  regular  and  formal  that 
they,  in  a  certain  sense,  may  be  called  structural ;  and  these 
arrangements  are  effected  by  a  kind  of  energy  which,  if  not 
purely  chemical,  is  in  such  close  alliance  with  it  that  there  is 
certainly  some  very  near  connection.  Such  is  the  structure  or 
the  forms  of  crystals — definite  shapes  which  many  substances 


ON   THE   ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF   MATTER.         149 

assume  when  passing  from  the  liquid  or  from  the  gaseous  state 
into  the  condition  of  solidity.  But  the  structure  of  a  crystal  is 
due  to  nothing  but  the  simple  or  mechanical  aggregation  of  its 
molecules  along  definite  lines  of  force.  There  is  no  internal 
structure  in  a  crystal  different  from  the  exterior.  A  cubical 
crystal  is  made  up  of  an  indefinite  number  of  little  cubes.  An 
octohedral  crystal  is  made  up  of  an  indefinite  number  of  little 
octohedrons.  Through  and  through  the  whole  mass  there  is  a 
perfect  uniformity  in  the  method  of  molecular  aggregation.  It 
is  a  mere  mass  of  molecules  compacted  together  in  a  particular 
shape.  It  is  a  mere  congeries  of  identical  units  marshalled 
and  drilled  into  coherence  in  a  certain  form  and  order. 

In  all  this  there  is  an  immeasurable  distance  and  -difference 
between  the  Organic  and  the  Inorganic.  It  is  only  by  invent- 
ing forms  of  speech  which  suppress  this  difference  that  the 
phraseology  of  pure  Materialism  can  be  applied  with  even  a 
semblance  of  sufficiency  to  the  Structures  which  are  at  once  the 
work  and  the  abode  of  Life.  "  Molecular  arrangement "  is  one 
of  those  phrases  which  have  been  thus  invented,  as  expressing 
the  fundamental  principle  on  which  all  differences  consist  in 
material  structures,  whether  dead  or  living.  I  do  not  think 
that  this  phrase  is  adequate  to  express  or  to  afford  any  explana- 
tion of  the  differences  which  prevail  even  in  the  sphere  of  the 
Inorganic.  There  is  something  in  the  nature  and  effects  even 
of  mere  chemical  combination  which  cannot  be  conveyed  in 
the  terms  of  any  purely  mechanical  conception.  Yet  on  this 
subject  the  common  phraseology  of  scientific  men  has  hardly 
advanced  at  all  since  the  days  of  Lucretius.  The  Ancients  had 
an  idea  that  the  Atoms  of  matter  were  held  together  by  means 
of  "hooks"  mutually  intertwining.  And  so  in  our  own  day 
the  most  eminent  physicists  are  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the 
analogous  conception  of  the  Atoms  in  chemical  combination 
being  "linked,"  or  "interlocked,"  or  "tightly  clasped,"  or 
"paired,"  or  "  grouped  "  together.  This  kind  of  phraseology 
is  all  very  well,  provided  it  be  borne  in  mind  how  dim  and  how 
distant  the  analogy  is,  and  how  powerless  it  is  to  express  the 
facts  which  Chemistry  has  revealed.  The  only  one  of  these 
facts  which  it  serves  to  keep  in  mind  is  that  the  separate  Atoms 
ar^  never  lost  or  wholly  merged,  because  they  can  always  be 


150  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

recovered  again  in  their  original  integrity.  But  during  the 
combination  we  do  not  know  how  they  are  affected.  It  looks 
very  much  as  if  they  were  absolutely  interfused,  in  such  a  sense 
and  to  such  an  extent  as  almost  to  undermine  the  doctrine  that 
"  Impenetrability,"  or  the  absolute  Occupation  of  Space,  can  be 
really  reckoned  among  the  inherent  properties  of  Matter.  No 
image  suggestive  of  mere  grouping  in  any  form,  however  in- 
tricate, can  be  other  than  delusive  and  empty  of  the  truth. 
Chemical  Combination  is  essentially  dynamic,  and  not  mechan- 
ical. Moreover,  it  is  selective,  and  not  indiscriminate.  No 
mere  method  of  arrangement  among  the  particles  of  Matter  can 
produce  the  changes  which  Chemical  Combination  makes.  We 
cannot  convert  a  brick  house  into  a  marble  palace  by  simply 
relaying  the  bricks  in  an  altered  fashion.  And  yet  this  would 
be  a  transformation  very  simple  and  very  easily  conceived  when 
compared  with  the  transformations  which  are  effected  by  the 
combinations  of  Chemical  Affinity.  Under  the  power  of  it, 
Atoms  which  are  in  themselves  passive  and  inert  become  pos- 
sessed, when  combined,  of  the  fiercest  energies.  And  vice 
versa",  Atoms  which  when  alone  are  intensely  active,  pass  when 
combined  into  a  passive  state,  and  thus  a  perfect  equilibrium 
may  be  established  among  Forces  which  no  other  agency  could 
control. 

But  however  great  and  insoluble  may  be  the  mystery  attach- 
ing to  the  ultimate  nature  of  these  laws  of  Chemical  Affinity, 
we  can  at  least  read  in  them  the  same  lesson  on  the  relation 
which  they  bear  to  the  Organic  world  which  we  have  already 
read  in  them  on  the  relation  which  they  bear  to  the  Inorganic. 
We  can  at  least  see  very  clearly  what  tools  and  materials  they 
supply  for  the  "  building  up  "  of  Organic  Structures.  I  have 
spoken  of  this  lesson  as  it  comes  home  to  us  in  the  Laboratory, 
where  the  advancing  knowledge  of  analysis  is  leading  every 
year  to  more  and  more  elaborate  possibilities  and  results  of 
Synthesis.  All  these  results  are  in  the  lower  Kingdom  of  the 
Inorganic.  But  in  that  Kingdom  they  are  veritable  edifices  ; 
compounds  "built  up,"  as  the  chemists  say,  by  the  dexterous 
use  of  Chemical  Affinities,  and  by  the  artificial  procurement  of 
the  conditions  under  which  they  must  enter  into  some  foreseen 
combination  and  produce  some  desired  effect.  But  the  most 


ON   THE    ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION    OF    MATTER.         15! 

elaborate  and  ingenious  of  these  combinations  are  after  all 
structures  only  in  the  same  sense  in  which  crystals  are  struct- 
ures also.  They  may  be  more  or  less  elaborate — more  or  less 
artificial — more  or  less  imitative  of  the  combinations  which  are 
found  in  Nature,  and  which  give  value  to  one  or  other  of  her 
products.  Yet  whatever  structure  they  have  is  always  purely 
and  merely  chemical.  They  are  mere  symmetrical  and  uniform 
arrangements  or  combinations  of  Atoms  and  of  Molecules. 
But  the  structures  which  are  "built  up"  by  Life  with  the  help 
of  Chemical  Affinity  in  the  Organs  which  are  its  own  home  and 
seat,  are  structures  in  a  very  different  sense  indeed.  They  are 
no  mere  aggregates  of  Atoms  or  of  Molecules,  each  like  the 
other,  and  all  similarly  struck,  or  "  hooked,  or  linked,  or 
grouped "  together  in  identical  forms  indefinitely  repeated. 
Nor  are  they  even  mere  chemical  combinations.  In  every  bit 
and  particle  of  every  living  Organism,  Difference  and  not  Iden- 
tity reigns  supreme, — Difference  not  necessarily  of  chemical 
composition,  but  of  physical  constitution, — Difference  not  pas- 
sive but  active, — Difference  not  of  substance  but  of  function, — 
Difference  not  in  what  the  Atoms  and  the  Molecules  are,  but 
in  what  they  are  set  to  do. 

Segregation  and  not  aggregation  is  the  fundamental  opera- 
tion of  constructive  Organic  Chemistry.  It  is  first  the  selec- 
tion and  separation  of  certain  Atoms  from  pre-existing  com- 
pounds, and  then  again  the  fitting  of  these  to  others  which  also 
must  be  selected  with  a  view  to  qualifying  them  for  definite 
functions.  And  in  every  Organism,  for  the  doing  of  an  almost 
infinite  variety  of  things,  it  is  farther  necessary  that  out  of  a 
very  few  elements  an  almost  infinite  variety  of  structures  should 
be  "  built  up."  How  infinite  that  variety  is  can  only  be  appre- 
ciated by  those  who  have  made  a  study  of  microscopic  sections 
of  vegetable  and  animal  tissues.  The  beauty  and  complexity 
of  these  tissues  even  in  Plants  is  very  great ;  but  they  are  sim- 
plicity itself  when  compared  with  the  tissues  of  the  higher  ani- 
mal Organisms.  Even  the  very  word  "  tissue,"  though  perhaps 
the  best  we  have,  suggests  but  a  feeble  image.  Every  animal 
Organism  is  Structure  through  and  through.  Its  whole  sub- 
stance, and,  as  it  were,  its  whole  essence,  is  Structure  and  noth- 
ing else. 


152  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

The  unit  of  Organic  Structure  is  the  Cell,  and  every  living 
Cell  is  a  whole  world  in  itself,  with  indwelling  capacities  and 
powers  as  various  as  the  ultimate  causes  of  them  are  mysteri- 
ous and  inscrutable.  There  is  a  whole  class  of  animals,  many 
of  them  of  exquisite  form  and  beauty,  which  are  held  to  consist 
entirely  of  one  Cell.  In  every  higher  Organism  the  activities 
of  the  Cell  are  mysteriously  co-operative  and  subordinate.  But 
although  the  causes  are  inscrutable,  the  ends  and  objects, — the 
purposes  and  functions, — of  every  Organ,  which  is  built  up  of 
Cells,  can,  for  the  most  part,  be  denned  and  understood.  In 
the  first  place,  there  is  one  great  end  governing  the  whole,  and 
that  is  the  establishment  and  maintenance,  in  the  midst  of  other 
things,  of  a  living  Unity — an  Individuality  with  a  Will  of  its 
own, — a  Personality — which  shall  be  complete  in  itself,  and 
more  or  less  completely  separable  from  all  surroundings. 
Given  certain  physical  conditions  which  we  see  as  a  fact  to  be 
essential  to  the  existence  and  enjoyment  of  Life,  then  every 
particle  of  every  Organism  is  simply  part  of  the  required  mech- 
anism for  the  meeting  of  these  conditions  ;  and  its  only  ex- 
planation to  us  consists  in  the  perception  of  its  relation  to  this 
purpose.  Throughout  each  and  every  Organic  Being  the  primal 
combinations,  and  the  primal  units  of  living  structure,  are 
shaped  and  moulded  into  forms  which,  as  regards  their  purely 
physical  and  organic  office  and  functions,  have  all  either  a 
purely  chemical  or  a  purely  mechanical  explanation.  The  prep- 
arations, for  example,  of  acids  and  of  emulsions  for  the  dis- 
solving of  foreign  substances  is  a  perfectly  intelligible  prelim- 
inary and  preparation  for  the  processes  of  digestion.  The 
elongation  and  flattening  and  longitudinal  arrangement  of  Cells 
into  tubes  of  many  sizes,  some  large,  some  microscopically 
small,  are,  in  like  manner,  perfectly  intelligible  preparations  for 
the  conveyance  of  circulating  fluids.  The  condensation  and 
elongation  of  the  same  Organic  Units  into  the  cords  and  threads 
and  fibres  of  nerve-tissue,  and  the  enclosure  of  this  most  highly 
organized  substance  again  within  protecting  sheaths,  are  not 
less  intelligible  provisions  and  adaptations  for  the  conduction 
of.  these  sensory  movements  in  which  galvanic  currents  are 
probably  concerned. 

Perhaps  no  Organic  substance,  whether  we  regard  it  in  its 


ON   THE    ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF   MATTER.         153 

composition,  or  in  its  structure,  is  a  better  example  of  complex- 
ity than  the  blood.  We  speak  and  think  of  "  atoms,"  even  in 
the  Inorganic  world,  as  endowed  with  properties  so  wonderful 
and  mysterious  that  some  men  doubt  their  existence,  and  others, 
like  Sir  J.  Herschel  and  Professor  Clerk  Maxwell,  can  only 
regard  them  as  "  manufactured  articles."  But  in  the  blood  we 
have  an  example  of  a  fluid,  in  which  one  essential  element  is  a 
multitude  of  bodies  so  minute  that  to  the  Ancients  they  would 
have  perfectly  represented  all  that  they  could  conceive  of  Atoms. 
I  refer  to  those  bodies  which  are  called  the  "corpuscles  "  of  the 
blood,  bodies  so  minute  that  one  cubic  millimetre  of  the  fluid  is 
estimated  to  contain  five  millions  of  them — that  is  to  say,  that 
one  cubic  inch  of  blood  would  contain  eighty  millions  of  these 
corpuscles.  Yet  each  one  of  these  corpuscles  is  an  Apparatus 
in  itself.  It  is  not  a  simple  body,  but  complex  and  full  of  dif- 
ferences. It  is  a  framework  in  which  are  imbedded  various 
compounds,  and  particularly  the  "  Hcemoglobin  "  to  which  the 
whole  liquid  owes  its  peculiar  color.  This  substance  is  among 
the  arcana  of  Life.  There  is  no  human  priesthood  privileged 
to  go  within  its  veil.  The  chemist  can  analyze  it  indeed  and  can 
tell  us  of  the  elements  of  which  it  is  composed.  And  what  he 
does  tell  us  is  curious  enough.  Alone  of  all  the  constituents  of 
the  body  this  mysterious  "  Hcemoglobin  "  contains  iron.  Be- 
sides this,  it  contains  the  usual  three  gases  with  a  special  sup- 
ply of  oxygen,  whilst  it  holds  also  sulphur  and  carbon  in  definite 
proportions.  But  this  is  not  all.  The  framework  of  the  cor- 
puscles in  which  this  precious  material  is  held  entangled  or  en- 
closed, is  so  complex  in  its  constituents,  that  it  may  be  said  to 
contain  a  whole  laboratory  of  chemical  elements.  Besides 
chlorine,  phosphorus  and  sulphur,  there  are  the  four  metals, 
potassium,  sodium,  calcium  and  magnesium.*  And  then,  in 
addition  to  all  this  world  of  complexity  in  the  red  corpuscles, 
there  are  besides  another  vast  number  of  corpuscles  which  are 
uncolored,  in  the  proportion  of  about  i  to  350  of  the  red.f 
These  also  are — perhaps  even  more  than  the  red  corpuscles — 
among  the  secretest  things  of  Nature,  for  they  are  not  easily 
distinguishable  from  the  separate  Organisms  which  are  the  low- 

*  Foster's  "  Text-Book  of  Physiology,"  p.  29. 

t  Gamgee's  "  Physiological  Chemistry,"  vol.  i.  p.  124. 


154  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

est  forms  of  individual  Life.  These  colorless  corpuscles  are  said 
to  move  like  the  Amoeba — a  well-known  Microscopic  Organism 
— and  they  seem  to  pass  through  the  walls  of  all  the  vessels  as 
if  there  was  nothing  in  their  way. 

The  ultimate  cause  of  the  necessity  for  all  these  things  is  be- 
yond us.  That  is  to  say,  we  do  not  know  why  Life  could  not 
exist  and  flourish  without  a  physical  machinery  so  highly  com- 
plex. But  given  the  necessity  of  the  circulating  fluids  of  the 
body  being  placed  in  contact  with  the  oxygen  of  the  atmos- 
phere, then  this  necessity  explains  the  preparation  of  some  "  Or- 
gan,"— that  is  to  say,  of  some  special  Apparatus, — in  which 
these  fluids  may  have  the  requisite  exposure  to  atmospheric  air, 
and  may,  nevertheless,  be  kept  from  spilling.  This  again  re- 
quires that  the  walls  of  the  vessels  should  have  a  certain  physi- 
cal constitution  and  structure,  through  which  certain  elements 
can  pass  freely,  whilst  at  the  same  time  the  Uquids  are  pre- 
vented from  escaping.  Among  ail  the  wonders  of  Nature, 
there  is  perhaps  no  wonder  greater  than  the  Circulation  of  the 
Blood.  Its  physical,  its  mechanical,  its  chemical,  and  its  vital 
phenomena  are  all  equally  complicated,  and  are  all  intimately 
interwoven.  The  current  of  the  blood  is  like  some  great  river, 
now  running  in  one  wide  channel,  now  dividing  into  a  thou- 
sand rills,  but  everywhere  bearing  in  its  stream  vast  multitudes 
of  little  rafts  more  numerous  than  all  the  ships  and  boats  and 
navies  of  the  world,  each  laden  with  a  precious  cargo,  and  each 
yielding  up  that  cargo  as  well  as  its  own  materials  to  repair  and 
reanimate  the  tissues  which  are  suffering  loss  or  exhaustion 
from  the  work  and  the  waste  of  Life.  Still  more  purely  me- 
chanical are  the  necessities  and  the  methods  which  explain  the 
bony  structure  of  the  animal  body,  which,  whether  in  the  posi- 
tion of  an  external  or  of  an  internal  skeleton,  is  an  essential  part 
of  the  Apparatus  belonging  to  all  the  higher  forms  of  Life. 
The  physical  necessity  is  clear.  Every  muscular  movement 
must  have  its  fulcrum,  and  the  demands  of  gravitation  require 
that  soft  substances  of  considerable  weight  should  have  some 
rigid  support  to  save  them  from  collapse. 

These  are  but  a  few  examples  of  the  one  great  principle  on 
which  all  Physiology  depends.  They  are  examples  which  give 
us  some  idea  of  the  immeasurable  distance  that  lies  between  the 


ON    THE    ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF    MATTER.         155 

Organic  and  the  Inorganic.  It  has  been  said  by  a  very  emi- 
nent man  that  "  the  process  of  development  of  the  egg,  like 
that  of  the  seed,  is  neither  more  nor  less  mysterious  than  that 
in  virtue  of  which  the  molecules  of  water,  when  it  is  cooled 
down  to  the  freezing  point,  build  themselves  up  into  regular 
crystals."  *  It  may  be  quite  true,  indeed,  that  the  crystalline 
arrangement  of  Matter  is  in  itself  mysterious,  because  we  do 
not  know  the  ultimate  source  or  nature  of  those  "  lines  of 
force  "  along  which  the  particles  of  Matter  are  compelled  to 
range  themselves  into  definite  forms.  But  if  it  be  possible  to 
have  any  degrees  in  the  scale  of  ignorance  or  of  mystery, 
where  all  is  profoundly  dark,  there  is  really  no  sort  of  compar- 
ison between  the  mystery  which  attaches  to  the  processes  of 
Crystallization  and  the  processes  of  Organic  Structure.  As 
mere  processes  they  are  really  incommensurable.  There  is  a 
fundamental  difference  between  all  forms  of  mere  orderly  ag- 
gregation and  even  the  very  lowest  form  of  living  structure. 

In  one  aspect,  indeed,  it  may  be  said  with  truth  that  there  is 
less  mystery  in  the  Organic  than  in  the  Inorganic  Kingdom,  be- 
cause the  processes  of  Organic  growth,  however  mysterious  and 
indeed  inconceivable  they  may  be  as  processes  merely,  are  at 
least  illuminated  by  the  clearest  light  in  their  relation  to  fitness 
and  utility.  But  in  crystalline  forms  there  is  no  obvious  utility. 
I  do  not  know  that  we  should  necessarily  lose  anything  of  essen- 
tial value  to  human  life  if  all  substances  were  as  amorphous  as 
many  of  them  actually  are.  But  at  least  in  all  Organic  Struct- 
ures the  light  of  adaptation  shines  like  the  Sun  in  Heaven.  In 
this  lies  the  pre-eminent  interest  attaching  to  Biology.  It  is  a 
branch  of  science  which,  in  proportion  as  it  concerns  the  highest 
department  of  Nature,  becomes  more  and  more  anthropopsychic 
because  above  all  others  it  essentially  consists  in  the  mental  rec- 
ognition of  structural  developments  which  advance  along  lines 
of  adaptive  purpose.  For  in  the  course  of  this  development,  it 
is  above  all  things  remarkable,  that  always  in  the  earliest  stages 
every  step  in  growth  must  go  before  the  use  which  it  is  to  serve 
when  finished.  No  Organ  can  be  used  until  it  is  fit  for  use,  and 
the  gradual  adaptation  to  that  use,  through  innumerable  stages 
of  growth  and  of  development,  is  an  adaptation  which  is  always 

*  Science  "  Primers— Introductory,"  By  Professor  Huxley,  p.  92, 


156  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

anticipatory  and  prophetic.  As  regards  each  individual  Organ- 
ism in  its  progress  from  the  Ovum  to  maturity  this  is  an  uni- 
versal and  an  unquestionable  fact,  which  proves  that  the  ser- 
viceableness  of  Organic  Structures  for  particular  functions  must, 
under  any  theory,  whether  it  is  called  Evolution,  or  whether  it  is 
called  Creation,  have  existed  in  preparation  before  it  can  have 
existed  in  fact. 

It  has  often  occurred  to  me  that  this  same  order  and  succession 
of  events  may  be  the  real  explanation,  in  some  cases  at  least,  of 
the  strange  and  mysterious  phenomena  of  rudimentary  Organs, 
separated  from  all  actual  use,  or  possibility  of  use,  in  certain 
animals.  On  the  theory  of  Evolution  every  existing  creature 
must  have  existed  potentially  in  the  earliest  Germs.  That  is  to 
say,  those  Germs  must  have  had  an  innate  tendency  to  develop- 
ment along  certain  lines  of  structure.  Nothing  therefore  is 
more  natural  than  that  Structure  should  sometimes  run  forward, 
as  it  were,  upon  those  lines,  and  should  become  visible  quite 
apart  from  the  actual  occurrence  of  conditions  calling  for  its  use. 
If,  for  example,  the  earliest  mammalian  Germ  had  "  potentially  " 
in  it  all  the  latest  developments  of  the  Class,  it  is  quite  intel- 
ligible that  some  portions  of  the  perfect  structure  should  be 
traceable  in  creatures  which  are  never  destined  to  have  them 
completed,  or  to  need  their  services.  Indeed  the  general  prin- 
ciple which  is  involved  in  this  idea  is  recognized  in  a  well-estab- 
lished doctrine  of  Comparative  Anatomy — namely  this, — that 
all  Organic  growths  which  are  highly  specialized  and  apparently 
separated  from  others,  are  in  reality  nothing  but  exaggerated 
developments  of  some  bit  or  rudiment  of  structure  which  exists 
throughout  the  whole  Class  to  which  it  may  belong  in  Nature. 
In  these  bits  of  structure  the  future  development  may  be  said  to 
have  pre-existed.  Without  these  roots  the  growth  could  not 
have  been.  In  them  therefore  the  Previsions  of  Nature  are,  as 
it  were,  embodied.  In  them  we  have  a  physical  basis  for  the 
conception,  apparently  ideal  and  almost  transcendental,  of  the 
Potential  existence  of  all  creatures  in  the  earliest  germs. 

A  striking  illustration  of  this  idea  and  of  its  corresponding 
doctrine  in  Comparative  Anatomy,  is  to  be  found  in  Professor 
Flower's  most  interesting  lecture  on  the  Origin  of  Whales.* 

*  "  Nature,"  No.  713,  Vol.  28. 


ON   THE    ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF    MATTER.         157 

Probably  there  is  no  growth  in  Nature  which  seems  more  abso- 
lutely unique,  and  separate  from  all  others,  than  the  Baleen  or 
Whalebone  apparatus  which  fills  the  mouth  of  certain  genera  of 
Whales,  and  constitutes  the  only  Organ  by  which  they  can  seize 
and  detain  the  myriads  of  minute  creatures  which  form  their 
food.  Yet  Professor  Flower  has  clearly  identified  its  origin  as 
only  a  modification  of  a  bit  of  structure  which  exists  in  almost 
all  mammals, — the  roots  of  it,  as  it  were,  being  in  certain  ridges 
and  papillae  of  the  Palate, — these  being  specially  visible  in  that 
most  singular  creature  the  Giraffe.  It  is  at  least  possible  that 
this  also  may  be  the  explanation  of  these  other  bits  of  structure 
which  have  been  supposed  to  be  aborted  by  disuse.  In  the 
metamorphoses  of  Insects,  certain  Organs  of  the  perfect  Insect, 
or  "  Imago,"  are  sometimes  visible  as  rudiments  in  the  imper- 
fect or  larval  form,  although  in  that  form  these  rudiments  have 
no  use  or  function.  In  these  cases,  all  such  rudiments  have  their 
interpretation  not  in  the  past,  but  in  the  future.  They  are  fash- 
ioned and  prepared  not  by  use,  but  for  it.  And  indeed  this 
principle  is  declared  by  a  high  authority  to  be  the  principle 
which  governs  the  whole  process  of  Development  as  it  is  ex- 
hibited in  the  wonderful  transformations  through  which  Insects 
go.  Sir  J.  Lubbock  tells  us  *  that  whilst  these  transformations 
as  a  whole  are  in  a  sense  the  same  in  all  cases,  they  differ 
widely  in  the  rapidity  with  which  different  Organs  are  developed 
in  different  Insects  ;  and  he  adds  that  the  condition  of  those  Or- 
gans at  the  time  of  birth,  or  hatching  of  the  egg,  depends  mainly 
on  the  manner  of  life  which  the  larva  is  "  intended  to  lead." 
Those  Organs  are  well  developed  which  are  requisite  for  im- 
mediate use  in  the  larval  state,  whilst  those  other  Organs  which 
are  destined  for  a  future  stage  are  present  only  in  rudiments  or 
in  germ.  We  may  be  quite  sure  that  the  same  principle  has 
governed  the  development  of  the  whole  animal  creation,  and  if 
so,  we  may  be  equally  sure  that  rudimentary  Organs  are  to  be 
expected  everywhere  in  Nature,  and  are  everywhere  open  to  the 
same  interpretation. 

It  is,  as  we  have  seen,  the  accepted  doctrine  with  the  Biolo- 
gists of  Evolution  that  new  Organs  are  never  really  new,  but 
everywhere  and  always  simply  developments  of  some  pre-exist- 

*  Transac.  Linnaean  Society,  Vol.  xxiv.    On  the  Development  of  Chlogon. 


158  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

ing  structure.  It  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  this  doctrine 
that  such  developments  must  begin  with  stages  anterior  to  the 
possibility  of  use,  and  in  this  stage  they  may  easily  be  con 
founded  with  those  which  have  become  atrophied  by  disuse. 
The  most  prominent  and  startling  example  of  this  phenomenon 
which  perhaps  is  now  to  be  found  in  Nature,  is  the  existence 
in  the  same  great  group  of  the  Cetacea,  or  Whales,  of  rudimen- 
tary bones  representing  the  pelvis,  and  the  other  bones  of  the 
hind  limbs  of  terrestrial  quadrupeds, — a  fact  to  which  we  must 
now  add  the  farther  discovery  that  the  muscles  also  which  are 
appropriated  to  the  movement  of  these  hind  limbs  in  the  terres- 
trial Mammalia,  are  to  be  traced  in  the  anatomy  of  the  Whales 
in  a  like  condition  of  complete  dissociation  from  the  possibility 
of  use.  It  has  been  usual  among  the  disciples  of  the  Darwin- 
ian hypothesis  to  assume  that  in  all  cases  these  useless  Organs 
are  not  rudiments  but  remains — not  roots  which  may  yet  have 
the  opportunity  of  flourishing,  but  branches  of  an  old  stem 
which  has  decayed  and  has  left  them  as  wrecks  behind.  It  is 
needless  to  point  out  that  both  of  these  suppositions  are  equally 
consistent  with  the  Theory  of  Evolution — both  equally  involv- 
ing the  idea  that  the  most  extensive  changes  in  species,  involv- 
ing both  form,  and  food,  and  habitat,  are  quite  possibly  within 
the  range  of  development  through  ordinary  generation.  But  if 
we  assume  that  in  all  cases  where  such  useless  members  are 
found,  they  are  always  remnants,  and  never  germs — that  they 
always  represent  members  which  were  once  in  full  develop- 
ment, and  in  actual  use,  and  never  represent  members  which 
are  merely  capable  of  development  in  the  future, — then  we  are 
no  nearer  than  we  were  before  to  the  real  Origin  of  Organic 
Structures.  It  obliges  us  to  suppose  that  the  ancestors  of 
Whales  were  once  terrestrial  quadrupeds,  and  in  that  case  we 
start  with  the  conception  of  hind  limbs,  and  of  the  Quadru- 
pedal Mammal,  fully  formed  and  perfectly  developed.  Where- 
as, if  we  accept  the  possibility  of  useless  Organs  being  the  be- 
ginnings and  rudiments  of  structures  which  are  there  because 
the  Germ  has  always  within  it  the  tendency  to  produce  them, 
then  we  catch  sight  of  an  idea  which  has  the  double  advantage 
of  going  nearer  to  the  Origin  of  Species,  and  of  being  in  har- 


ON    THE    ELEMENTARY    CONSTITUTION   OF  HATTER.         159 

mony  with  the  analogy  of  natural  operations  as  we  see  them 
now. 

No  one  knew  better  than  Mr.  Darwin  that  the  weakest  part 
of  his  theory  is  that  which  assumes  variations  to  be  accidental, 
and  the  successful  variations  to  be  the  mere  "  selected  "  survi- 
vors of  thousands  which  have  arisen  and  died  because  they  did 
not  happen  to  coincide  with  favoring  conditions.  Indeed  he 
avowed  that  this  part  of  his  theory  was  merely  provisional,  and 
nothing  more  than  a  confession  of  our  complete  ignorance  of  any 
definite  Law  in  the  phenomena  of  Variation.  Believing  as  I 
do  in  the  Reign  of  Law  in  Nature,  and  that  there  is  no  estab- 
lished order  of  events  which  can  possibly  be  accidental,  I  can- 
not doubt  that  if  Species  have  been  begun  and  established 
through  birth  and  ordinary  generation,  the  rise  and  establish- 
ment of  every  variety  has  followed  a  predetermined  course,  and 
the  mould  of  every  new  Organ  and  every  new  development  has 
been  implicit  in  every  Germ.  We  know  this  to  be  so  within 
the  limits  of  Specific  Forms,  in  every  existing  ovum  :  and  it  is 
no  more  difficult  to  believe  that  the  same  principle  holds  good 
for  every  deviation  from  those  Specific  Forms  which  may  lie  or 
have  lain  in  a  more  distant  future.  How  it  is  so  is,  indeed,  in 
the  highest  degree  inconceivable.  Solomon  asks,  "  Is  there 
any  taste  in  the  white  of  an  egg  ?  "  But  there  is  another  ques- 
tion much  more  significant.  Is  there  any  structure  in  the  white 
of  an  egg  ?  None  that  can  be  detected  by  any  human  method 
of  examination.  Yet  out  of  that  material,  by  the  application 
of  nothing  beyond  a  little  heat,  the  most  elaborate  structure  is 
developed  along  lines  of  growth  which  are  rigorously  prede- 
termined. And  if  we  see  this  to  be  the  fact  in  the  case  of  an 
egg,  and  in  the  case  of  every  seed,  where  no  mould  is  visible,  it 
seems  much  more  easy  to  conceive  it  in  cases  where  the  moulds 
of  new  Organs  can  be  actually  seen  as  rudimentary  structures 
useless  to  the  individual  creature  which  contains  them.  And 
then  it  is  always  to  be  remembered  that  even  if  we  suppose  all 
visible  rudiments  of  Organs  to  be  invariably  relics  of  the  past, 
we  know  that  some  other  set  of  Organs  must  have  been  on  the 
rise  as  a  substitute  for  those  which  were  in  course  of  atrophy 
and  decay.  If  Whales,  for  example,  are  indeed  descended 
from  terrestrial  quadrupeds  which  had  a  fully  developed  pelvis 


l6o  THE   UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

and  posterior  limbs,  then  the  new  Organ  fitted  for  the  propul 
sion  of  the  animal  in  water,  which  is  almost  exclusively  the  tail, 
must  have  existed  first  in  germs,  and  then  in  stages  of  prepara- 
tion, before  its  use  was  begun  and  before  that  use  was  per- 
fected. In  any  case,  therefore,  we  come  back  to  the  idea  of  all 
Organic  growths  being  implicit  in  their  respective  Germs.  It 
is  quite  true  that  in  Nature  as  we  now  see  it  these  Germs  are 
always  born  from  pre-existing  Organisms.  But  our  Reason 
tells  us  that  this  process  must  have  had  a  beginning,  and 
science,  in  so  far  as  its  evidence  is  available,  indicates  very 
clearly  successive  stages  of  creation, — and  times  comparatively 
recent  when  all  existing  genera  began  to  be. 

The  dictum  seems  to  be  true  now,  "  Omne  vivum  ab  ovo." 
But  the  converse  proposition,  "  Omne  ovum  ab  vivo,"  would 
involve  us  in  an  Eternal  Series  with  no  Beginning.  It  can  be 
true  only  in  that  transcendental  sense  in  which  we  can  affirm 
that  every  Germ  must  have  come  from  some  great  primal 
Source  and  Fount  of  Life.  But  all  reasoning  and  all  evidence 
goes  to  establish  the  conception  that  each  of  these  Germs  has 
now,  and  has  always  had,  its  own  fixed  and  predetermined  line 
of  march.  In  its  wonderful,  invisible,  and  incomprehensible 
structure,  every  Ovum  does  not  grow  up  to  the  uses  which  are 
to  be.  We  strain  our  imaginations  to  conceive  the  processes 
of  Creation,  whilst  in  reality  they  are  around  us  daily.  Per- 
haps if  we  had  been  present  at  the  birth  of  some  new  animal 
Form  we  should  have  seen  nothing  very  different  from,  and 
certainly  nothing  more  wonderful  than,  we  see  now.  It  is  only 
familiarity  that  has  veiled  their  mystery.  It  is  only  thought- 
lessness that  makes  us  think  that  we  are  not  even  now  in  the 
middle  of  a  truly  Creative  Work.  It  is  most  probable  that  at 
no  stage  of  it,  if  we  had  been  staring  with  all  our  eyes,  and  lis- 
tening with  all  our  ears,  would  we  have  seen  or  heard  anything 
which  is  not  to  be  seen  and  heard  in  the  world  around  us.  The 
first  introduction  of  a  Germ  would  probably  have  been  invisible. 
From  the  Beginning  Creation  would  have  seemed  to  us  a 
growth  and  not  a  manufacture.  Nor  is  it  conceivable  that  there 
should  have  been  then  a  wider  difference  between  the  first 
Germs  of  things,  and  the  Forms  and  Functions  which  were  to 
be  developed  out  of  them,  than  the  difference  which  in  this  re« 


ON   THE   ELEMENTARY   CONSTITUTION   OF   MATTER.         l6l 

spect  prevails  in  the  existing  world.  For  this  difference  in 
many  cases  amounts  to  the  most  absolute  contrast,  and  ex- 
tends to  every  feature  which  is  recognizable  either  by  the 
senses  or  the  intellect.  Nor  is  this  contrast  confined  to 
cases  in  which  fragments  of  matter  apparently  formless  swell 
and  grow  into  complicated  structures.  It  extends  to  cases  in 
which  creatures  apparently  perfect,  and  which  are  certainly  high- 
ly Organized,  become  changed  in  everything  which  constitutes 
their  visible  identity.  When  we  think  of  the  mystery  involved 
in  the  metamorphoses  of  Insects  and  in  the  corresponding  phe- 
nomena of  alternate  generation  in  other  classes  of  the  Animal 
Kingdom,  we  must  see  what  unlimited  possibilities  of  Creation 
lie  open  in  methods  which  are  in  full  operation  round  us.  In 
the  higher  animals  the  development  of  Germs  is  carried  on  in 
vital  and  physical  connection  with  the  perfected  Organism  of 
the  mother,  and  the  cycle  of  changes  which  lead  up  to  the  com- 
pletion of  the  parent  Form  is  a  cycle  which  thus  appears  to  be 
wholly  governed  by  the  surrounding  medium.  But  when  we 
look  at  the  metamorphoses  of  Insects,  no  such  delusion  is 
possible.  A  creature  which  to  all  appearance  is  fully  formed, 
and  which  has  led  a  separate  and  independent  existence,  sud- 
denly lays  itself  to  sleep.  In  that  condition,  without  any  food, 
—without  any  contact  with  any  directing  physical  agency  ex- 
ternal to  itself, — its  Organization  is  wholly  altered — its  whole 
body  is  re-arranged — its  old  members  dissolve  and  disappear, 
— new  members  emerge,  and  in  a  few  days  or  weeks  are  per- 
fected in  form  and  in  power.  Moreover,  that  form  and  that 
power  are  both  for  uses  which,  so  far  as  the  creature's  previous 
"  experience  "  is  concerned,  are  absolutely  new. 

With  such  "  leaps  "  as  this  in  the  Creative  Work  going  on  in 
every  field,  and  stream,  and  sea  around  us,  we  may  have  the  ut- 
most confidence  that  the  same  Work  has  involved  the  same 
principles  through  all  time.  From  the  beginning  of  it  there  has 
been  no  chance — none  of  its  results  have  been  attained  by  acci- 
dent— none  in  Physics  by  the  mere  clash  of  Atoms — none  in 
Vitality  by  the  mere  "  struggle  for  existence."  Existence  has 
come  before  struggle,  and  not  after  it.  There  never  has  been 
"  experience  "  till  the  faculties  by  which  it  is  acquired  have  been 
first  given  and  then  set  to  work.  There  never  has  been  any 
n 


1 62  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

"  use  "  till  the  Organs  have  been  formed  by  which  service  could 
be  rendered.  Creation  and  Evolution,  therefore,  when  these 
terms  have  been  cleared  from  intellectual  confusion,  are  not 
antagonistic  conceptions  mutually  exclusive.  They  are  har- 
monious and  complementary.  In  this  aspect  both  conceptions 
are  equally,  thoroughly,  and  intensely  anthropopsychic — both 
absolutely  demanding  as  a  condition  of  the  facts  being  render- 
ed  intelligible  that  Utility  should  be  recognized  as  an  end  be- 
fore it  can  possibly  have  been  made  use  of  as  a  means.  Under 
whatever  cloud  of  words  men  may  endeavor  to  conceal  it,  our 
recognition  of  this  universal  fact  and  law  in  the  genesis  of  Or- 
ganic Functions  is  the  recognition  of  Mind  by  Mind, — the  rec- 
ognition by  the  human  mind  of  operations  which  are  intelligible 
to  it  only  because  they  are  operations  having  a  close  analogy 
with  its  own. 


te 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MAN   AS   THE   REPRESENTATIVE   OF   THE   SUPERNATURAL. 

THE  denial  and  exclusion  of  what  is  called  "The  Super-  i 
natural "  in  our  explanations  of  Nature,  is  the  same  doctrine  in  j 
another  form  as  the  denial  and  exclusion  of  Anthropopsychism.-^ 
The  connection  may  not  be  evident  at  first  sight,  but  it  arises 
from  the  fact  that  the  human  Mind  is  really  the  type,  and  the 
only  type,  of  that  which  men  call  the  Supernatural.  It  would  be 
well  if  this  word  were  altogether  banished  from  our  vocabulary, 
It  is  in  the  highest  degree  ambiguous  and  deceptive.  It  assumes 
that  the  system  of  "Nature"  in  which  we  live  and  of  which  we 
form  a  part,  is  limited  to  purely  physical  agencies  linked  together 
by  nothing  but  mechanical  necessity.  There  might  indeed  be 
no  harm  in  this  limitation  of  the  word  Nature  if  it  could  possibly 
be  adhered  to.  But  it  is  not  possible  to  adhere  to  it,  and  that 
for  the  best  of  all  reasons,  because  even  inanimate  Nature,  as 
we  habitually  see  it,  and  are  obliged  to  speak  of  it,  is  not  a  Sys- 
tem which  gives  us  the  idea  of  being  governed  and  guided  by 
mechanical  necessity.  No  wonder  men  find  it  difficult  to  be- 
lieve in  the  Supernatural,  if  by  the  Supernatural  they  mean  any 
Agency  which  is  nowhere  present  in  the  visible  and  intelligible 
Universe,  or  is  not  implicitly  represented  and  continually  re- 
flected there.  For  indeed  in  this  sense  no  Christian  can  be- 
lieve in  the  Supernatural, — in  a  Creation  from  which  the  Creator 
has  been  banished,  or  has  withdrawn  Himself.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  by  the  Supernatural  we  mean  an  Agency  which,  while 
ever  present  in  the  material  and  intelligible  Universe,  is  not  con- 
fined to  it,  but  transcends  it,  then  indeed  the  difficulty  is  not  in 
the  believing  of  it,  but  in  the  disbelieving  of  it.  No  man  can 
really  hold  that  the  Material  System  which  is  visible  or  intel- 
ligible to  us  is  anything  more  than  a  fragment  or  a  part.  No 
man  can  believe  that  its  existing  arrangements  of  Matter  and  of 
Force  are  self-caused,  self-originated  and  self-sustained.  It  is 


164  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

not  possible,  therefore,  so  to  "  crib,  cabin  and  confine  "  our  con- 
ceptions of  Nature  as  to  exclude  elements  which  essentially  be- 
long to  what  is  called  the  Supernatural.  And  there  is  another 
reason  why  it  is  impossible  to  adhere  to  such  conceptions  of  the 
Natural,  and  that  is,  that  it  would  compel  us  to  exclude  the  Mind 
of  Man,  and  indeed  the  lesser  minds  of  all  living  things,  from 
our  scientific  definition  of  Nature,  and  to  establish  an  absolute 
and  rigorous  separation  between  all  of  these  and  the  world  in 
which  they  move  and  act.  We  have  seen  not  only  how  imprac- 
ticable such  a  separation  is,  but  how  false  it  is  to  the  facts  of 
science.  The  same  condemnation  must  fall  on  every  concep- 
tion of  the  Universe  which  assumes  this  separation  as  not  only  im- 
portant but  fundamental.  Yet  this  is  the  very  separation  on 
which  those  philosophers  absolutely  depend  who  condemn  what 
they  call  the  Supernatural  in  our  conceptions  and  explanations  of 
the  world.  And  in  the  interest  of  their  own  argument  they  are 
quite  right  in  keeping  to  this  separation  as  indispensable  for  their 
purpose.  In  order  to  exclude  from  Nature  what  they  call  the 
Supernatural,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  they  should  in  the 
first  place  exclude  Man.  f"  If  Nature  be  nothing  but  Matter, 
Force,  and  Mechanical  Necessity,  then  Man  belongs  to  the 
Supernatural,  and  is  indeed  the  very  embodiment  and  repre- 
sentation of  it) 

Accordingly  this  identification  of  Man  with  the  Supernatural 
is  necessarily  and  almost  unconsciously  involved  in  language 
which  is  intended  to  be  strictly  philosophical,  and  in  the  most 
careful  utterances  of  our  most  distinguished  scientific  men. 
Thus  Professor  Tyndall,  in  his  Belfast  Address  to  the  British 
Association,  uses  these  words  :  "  Our  earliest  historic  ancestors 
fell  back  also  upon  experience,  but  with  this  difference,  that  the 
particular  experiences  which  furnished  the  weft  and  woof  of  their 
theories  were  drawn,  not  from  the  study  of  Nature,  but  from 
what  lay  much  closer  to  them — the  observation  of  men."  Here 
Man  is  especially  contradistinguished  from  Nature  ;  and  accord- 
ingly we  find  in  the  next  sentence  that  this  idea  is  connected 
with  a  condemnation  of  the  error  of  seeing  ourselves — that  is, 
the  Supernatural  in  Nature.  "  Their  theories,"  the  Professor 
goes  on  to  say,  "  accordingly  took  an  anthropomorphic  form." 
Further  on,  in  the  same  Address,  the  same  antithesis  is  still  more 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       165 

^ 

distinctly  expressed,  thus  :  "  If  Mr.  Darwin  rejects  the  notion 
of  creative  power  acting  after  human  fashion,  it  certainly  is  not 
because  he  is  unacquainted  with  the  numberless  exquisite 
adaptations  on  which  the  notion  of  a  supernatural  artificer 
is  founded."  Here  we  see  that  the  idea  of  "  acting  after  human 
fashion  "  is  treated  as  synonymous  with  the  idea  of  a  "  super- 
natural artificer  ;  "  and  the  same  identification  maybe  observed 
running  throughout  the  language  which  is  commonly  employed 
to  condemn  what  is  sometimes  called  Anthropomorphism  and 
at  other  times  is  called  the  Supernatural. 

The  two  propositions,  therefore,  which  are  really  involved  in 
the  thoroughgoing  denial  of  Anthropopsychism  and  the  Super- 
natural are  the  following  :  ist,  that  there  is  nothing  except  Man 
which  is  above  or  outside  of  mere  Matter  and  Force  in  Nature 
as  we  see  and  know  it;  2d,  that  in  the  System  of  Nature  as 
thus  seen  and  known,  there  are  no  phenomena  due  to  Mind 
having  any  analogies  with  our  own. 

Surely  these  propositions  have  been  refuted  the  moment  the 
definition  of  them  has  been  attained.  We  have  only  to  ob- 
serve, in  the  first  place,  the  strange  and  anomalous  position  in 
which  it  places  Man.  As  regards  at  least  the  higher  faculties 
of  his  mind,  he  is  allowed  no  place  in  Nature,  and  no  fellowship 
with  any  other  thing  or  any  other  Being  outside  of  Nature. 
He  is  absolutely  alone — out  of  all  relation  with  the  Universe 
around  him,  and  under  a  complete  delusion  when  he  sees  in 
any  part  of  it  any  mental  homologies  with  his  own  Intelligence, 
or  with  his  own  Will,  or  with  his  own  Affections.  Does  this 
absolute  solitariness  of  position  as  regards  the  higher  attributes 
of  Man — does  it  sound  reasonable,  or  possible,  or  consistent 
with  some  of  the  most  fundamental  conceptions  of  science  ? 
How,  for  example,  does  it  accord  with  that  great  conception 
whose  truth  and  sweep  become  every  day  more  apparent — the 
Unity  of  Nature  ? 

How  can  it  be  true  that  Man  is  so  outside  of  that  Unity  that 
the  very  notion  of  seeing  anything  like  himself  in  it  is  the 
greatest  of  all  philosophical  heresies  ?  Does  not  the  very  pos- 
sibility of  science  consist  in  the  possibility  of  reducing  all  nat- 
ural phenomena  to  purely  natural  conceptions,  which  must  be 
related  to  the  Intellect  of  Man  when  they  are  worked  out  and 


1 66  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

apprehended  by  it  ?  And  if,  according  to  the  latest  theories, 
Man  is  himself  a  Product  of  Evolution,  and  is,  therefore,  in 
every  atom  of  his  Body  and  in  every  function  of  his  Mind  a 
part  and  a  child  of  Nature,  is  it  not  in  the  highest  degree  illog- 
ical so  to  separate  him  from  it  as  to  condemn  him  for  seeing  in 
it  some  image  of  himself  ?  If  he  is  its  product  and  its  child,  is 
it  not  certain  that  he  is  right  when  he  sees  and  feels  the  indis- 
soluble bonds  of  unity  which  unite  him  to  the  great  System  of 
things  in  which  he  lives  ? 

This  fundamental  inconsistency  in  the  Agnostic  philosophy 
becomes  all  the  more  remarkable  when  we  find  that  the  very 
men  who  tell  us  that  we  are  not  One  with  anything  above  us, 
are  the  same  who  insist  that  we  are  One  with  everything  be- 
neath us.  I  Whatever  there  is  in  us  or  about  us  which  is  purely  I 
animal  we  may  see  everywhere ;  but  whatever  there  is  in  us  J 
purely  intellectual  and  moral,  we  delude  ourselves  if  we  think  I 
we  see  it  anywhere^    There  are  abundant  homologies  between 
our  bodies  and  the  bodies  of  the  beasts,  but  there  are  no  ho- 
mologies between  our  minds  and  any  Mind  which  lives  and 
manifests  itself  in  Nature.     Our  livers  and  our  lungs,  our  ver- 
tebras and  our  nervous  systems,  are  identical  in  origin  and  in  | 
function  with  those  of  the  living  creatures  round  us ;  but  there 
is  nothing  in  Nature  or  above  it  which  corresponds  to  our  Fore-  j 
thought,  or  Design,  or  Purpose — to  our  love  of  the  Good  or  our  I 
admiration  of  the  Beautiful — to  our  indignation  with  the  wicked,  j 
or  to  our  pity  for  the  suffering  and  the  fallen.     I  venture  to 
think  that  no  system  of  philosophy  that  has  ever  been  taught 
on  Earth  lies  under  such  a  weight  of  antecedent  improbability ; 
and  this  improbability  increases  in  direct  proportion  to  the  suc- 
cess of  science  in  tracing  the  Unity  of  Nature,  and  in  showing 
step  by  step  how  its  laws  and  their  results  can  be  brought  more 
and  more  into  direct  relation  with  the  Mind  and  Intellect  of 
Man. 

Let  us  test  this  philosophy  from  another  point  of  view,  and 
see  how  far  it  is  consistent  with  our  advancing  knowledge  of 
those  combinations  of  natural  Force  by  which  the  system  of 
the  physical  Universe  appears  to  be  sustained. 

We  may  often  see  in  the  writings  of  our  physical  teachers  in 
the  present  day  reference  made  to  a  celebrated  phrase  of  the 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       167 

old  and  abandoned  school  of  Aristotelian  physics — a  phrase  in- 
vented by  that  old  school  to  express  a  familiar  fact — that  it  is 
extremely  difficult,  if  not  absolutely  impossible,  to  produce  a 
perfect  vacuum — that  is  to  say,  a  space  which  shall  be  abso- 
lutely empty.  The  phrase  was  this  :  "  Nature  abhors  a  vac- 
uum." It  is  now  continually  held  up  as  a  perfect  example  and 
type  of  the  old  habit  of  thought  which  vitiates  all  true  physical 
reasoning."  Now  let  us  observe  what  this  error  is.  As  a  forci- 
ble and  picturesque  way  of  expressing  a  physical  truth — that 
the  difficulty  of  producing  a  vacuum  is  extreme,  that  Nature 
sets,  as  it  were,  her  face  against  our  doing  it — the  phrase  is  a 
good  one,  and  conveys  an  excellent  idea  of  the  general  fact. 
Sir  W.  Grove  says  of  it,  that  it  is  "  an  aphorism,  which,  though 
cavilled  at  and  ridiculed  by  the  self-sufficiency  of  some  modern 
philosophers,  contains  in  a  terse  though  somewhat  metaphorical 
form  the  expression  of  a  comprehensive  truth."  But  there  is 
this  error  in  the  phrase  (if  indeed  it  was  or  ever  could  be  liter- 
ally understood) — that  it  gives  for  the  general  fact  a  wrong 
cause,  inasmuch  as  it  ascribes  to  the  material  and  inanimate 
Forces  of  Nature,  whose  simple  pressures  are  concerned  in  the 
result,  certain  dispositions  that  are  known  to  us  as  affections 
of  Mind  alone.  In  short,  it  ascribes  to  the  mere  elementary 
Forces  of  Matter — not  to  a  living  Agency  using  these  as  tools, 
but  to  mere  Material  Force — the  attributes  of  Mind. 

Now  it  is  well  worthy  of  remark  that,  so  far  as  this  error  is  con- 
cerned, the  language  of  physical  science  is  full  of  it — steeped 
in  it ;  and  that  in  this  sense  it  is  chargeable  with  a  kind  of  An- 
thropomorphism which  is  really  open  to  the  gravest  objection. 
To  see  Mind  in  Nature,  or,  according  as  Nature  may  be  defined, 
to  see  Mind  outside  of  Nature,  acknowledging  it  to  be  Mind, 
and  treating  it  as  such — this  is  one  thing — and  this  is  the  true 
and  legitimate  Anthropopsychism  which  some  physicists  de- 
nounce. But  to  see  Mind  in  Material  Forces  alone,  and  to  as- 
cribe its  attributes  to  them — this  is  equally  Anthropomorphism, 
but  a  form  of  it  which  is  indeed  open  to  all  the  objections  they 
express.  This,  nevertheless,  is  the  Anthropomorphism  which 
gives  habitually  its  coloring  to  their  thoughts  and  its  spirit  to 
their  language. 

Let  me  explain  what  I  mean  by  some  examples.    I  will  take, 


1 68  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

first,  the  theory  of  Development,  or  the  derivative  hypothesis, 
which,  as  applied  to  the  history  of  Organic  Life,  is  now  accepted 
by  a  large  number  of  scientific  men,  if  not  as  certainly  true,  at 
least  as  an  hypothesis  which  comes  nearer  than  any  other  to  the 
truth.  Whether  that  theory  be  true  or  not  it  is  a  theory  satura- 
ted throughout  with  the  ideas  of  utility  and  fitness,  and  of  adap- 
tation, as  th£  governing  principles  and  causes  of  the  harmony 
of  Nature,  f  Its  central  conception  is,  that  in  the  history  of  Or- 
ganic Life  changes  have  somehow  always  come  "about  exactly 
in  proportion  as  the  need  of  them  arose./  But  how  is  it  that  the 
laws  ot  growth  are~so  correlated  with  utility  that  they  should  in 
this  manner  work  together  ?  Why  should  varied  and  increasing 
utility  operate  in  the  requisite  direction  of  varied  and  increasing 
developments?  The  connection  is  not  one  of  logical  neces- 
sity. Not  only  can  we  conceive  it  otherwise,  but  we  know  that 
it  is  otherwise  beyond  certain  bounds  and  limits.  It  is  not  an 
universal  law  that  organic  growths  arise  in  proportion  to  all 
needs,  or  are  strengthened  by  all  exertion.  It  is  a  law  prevail- 
ing only  within  certain  limits  ;  and  it  is  not  possible  to  describe 
the  facts  concerning  it  without  employing  the  language  which 
is  expressive  of  mental  purpose. 

Accordingly,  I  have  pointed  out  in  a  former  work  *  that  Mr. 
Darwin  himself  does  use  this  language  perpetually,  and  to  an 
extent  far  exceeding  that  in  which  it  is  used  by  almost  any 
other  natural  philosopher.  Some  writers  who  see  in  his  theory 
nothing  but  its  materialistic  aspects  have  taken  alarm  at  this 
language,  and  have  warned  him  of  its  dangerous  significance. 
But  he  never — to  the  last — accepted  a  warning  that  would  have 
hindered  him  in  that  faithful  interpretation  of  Nature  which 
consisted  in  simply  expressing  what  he  saw.  Accordingly  in 
none  of  his  works  has  this  teleological  tendency  of  language 
been  more  marked  as  an  inevitable  necessity  of  thought  than  in 
one  of  his  very  latest  contributions  to  science.  "  The  Move- 
ments of  Plants  "  have  been  traced  by  him  through  hours,  and 
days,  and  months  of  the  most  patient  and  accurate  observation. 
It  is  found  as  a  fundamental  fact  that  the  growth  of  all  plants 
is  affected  along  lines  of  movement  which  may  be  described  as 
spiral  or  screwing,  and  to  this  fundamental  fact  the  term  "  Cir- 
*  "  Reign  of  Law,"  Chap.  I. 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       169 

cumnutation  "  has  been  applied.  Now  the  physical  cause  of 
this  movement  is  at  least  obscure,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
purposes  which  it  subserves  are  not  obscure  at  all.  All  that 
can  be  said  about  the  physical  cause  is,  that  "  it  probably  arises 
from  changes  in  the  turgescence  of  the  cells  "  *  taking  place 
alternately  upon  opposite  sides  of  the  growing  part.  But  this 
is  little  more  than  a  re-statement  of  the  fact  in  another  form  of 
words.  The  increased  turgescence  of  the  cells  on  one  side 
means  or  involves  increased  growth  on  that  side.  The  other 
side  remaining  comparatively  still,  necessarily  exerts  a  pull  upon 
the  moving  side,  as  an  anchor  exerts  a  pull  upon  the  swinging 
of  a  ship.  This  pull  turns  or  twists  the  moving  side  towards  it- 
self, and  thus  a  constant  twisting  or  spiral  motion  is  established 
in  all  growing  vegetation. 

But  how  comes  it  that  the  turgescence  of  cell-growth  should 
be  unequal  and  alternate  ?  It  is  no  physical  explanation  of  cir- 
cumnutation  merely  to  state  its  essential  condition  as  a  fact. 
Mr.  Darwin  calls  the  changes  in  turgescence  "  spontaneous  " — 
that  is  to  say,  they  are  innate  and  their  causes  are  unknown. 
But  now,  when  we  come  to  the  uses  of  circumnutation,  we  find 
them  to  be  clear,  definite,  and  almost  infinitely  various.  By 
means  of  it  the  roots  of  plants  seek  the  ground, — pierce  the  soil, 
— twist  themselves  away  from  obstacles,  and  run  in  the  direc- 
tion of  moisture  or  of  nourishment.  By  the  same  means  the 
upward  shoots  from  germs  which  are  buried  underground  curl 
themselves  into  an  arch  so  that  with  greater  strength  and  with 
greater  mechanical  advantage  they  can  burst  through  the  sub- 
stance and  the  hardened  surface  of  the  soil.  By  the  same 
twisting  movements  they  can  face  the  Sun,  or  they  can  close 
their  petals  against  cold  and  storm — they  can  lay  their  leaves 
m  a  direction  least  exposed  to  frosts  and  blights — they  can 
sJeep  and  they  can  wake — they  can  avoid  objects  that  hinder 
them  from  the  light — they  can  seek  the  shade  from  excessive 
^lare — they  can  rear  their  heads  alone,  or  they  can  clasp  and 
entwine  themselves  round  necessary  supports. 

Every  one  who  has  observed  even  cursorily  the  growth  of 
plants  must  have  seen  cases  in  which  they  seem  not  only  to  have 
the  senses  of  a  living  animal,  but  to  have  powers  of  self-adjust- 

*  Page  663. 


I7O  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

ment  and  of  structural  self-adaptation  which  no  animal  pos- 
sesses. It  is  common,  for  example,  to  see  a  tree  which  has 
been  planted  on  the  edge  of  a  steep  bank  throw  out  roots  of  ex- 
traordinary size  and  strength  upon  the  side  which  needs  special 
support.  The  same  versatility  of  powers  is  visible  in  a  thou- 
sand other  cases.  Mr.  Darwin  has  traced  it  through  an  im- 
mense variety  of  applications,  and  in  describing  it  he  sees,  and 
he  expresses  in  vivid  language,  the  mental  attributes  of  Purpose 
which  it  embodies.  He  speaks  of  the  roots  of  plants  "  thus 
following  with  unerring  skill  a  line  of  least  resistance."  He 
speaks  of  a  "  curious  special  contrivance  for  bursting  the  seed- 
coats  whilst  beneath  the  ground — namely,  a  peg  at  the  base  of 
the  hypocotyl  projecting  at  right  angles  which  holds  down  the 
lower  half  of  the  seed-coats,  whilst  the  growth  of  the  arched  part 
of  the  hypocotyl  lifts  up  the  upper  half  and  thus  splits  them  in 
twain."  *  He  speaks  of  circumnutating  movements  "  being  so 
arranged  that  the  blade  stands  vertically  during  the  night,  re- 
assuming  its  former  position  on  the  following  morning."  f  He 
even  speaks  of  the  tip  of  a  root  "  perceiving^the  air  to  be  moist- 
er  on  one  side  than  on  the  other,  and  transmitting  an  influence 
to  the  adjoining  part  which  leads  towards  the  source  of  moist- 
ure." $  Finally  he  says  that  "  in  almost  every  case  (in  plant 
life)  we  can  clearly  perceive  the  final  purpose  or  advantage  of 
the  several  movements." 

Mr.  Darwin  does  not  use  this  language  with  any  theological 
purpose  nor  in  connection  with  any  metaphysical  speculation. 
He  uses  it  simply  and  naturally  for  no  other  reason  than  that 
he  cannot  help  it.  The  Correlation  of  Natural  Forces  so  ad- 
justed as  to  work  together  for  the  production  of  use  in  the 
functions,  for  the  enjoyments,  and  for  the  beauty  of  Life — this 
is  the  central  idea  of  his  system  ;  and  it  is  an  idea  which  cannot 
be  worked  out  in  detail  without  habitual  use  of  the  language 
which  is  moulded  on  our  own  consciousness  of  the  mental 
powers  by  which  all  our  own  adjustments  are  achieved.  This 
is  what,  perhaps,  the  greatest  Observer  that  has  ever  lived 
cannot  help  observing  in  Nature ;  and  so  his  language  is 

*  "  Movements  of  Plants,"  p.  556, 
t  Ibid.,  p.  561. 
%  Ibid.,  p.  572- 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       17  I 

thoroughly  anthropopsychic.  Seeing  in  the  methods  pur- 
sued in  Nature  a  constant  embodiment  of  his  own  intel- 
lectual conceptions,  and  a  close  analogy  with  the  methods 
which  his  own  mind  recognizes  as  "  contrivance,"  he  rightly 
uses  the  forms  of  expression  which  convey  the  work  of  Mind. 
"  Rightly,"  I  say,  provided  the  full  scope  and  meaning  of  this 
language  be  not  repudiated.  I  do  not  mean  that  naturalists 
should  be  always  following  up  their  language  to  theological  con- 
clusions, or  that  any  fault  should  be  found  with  them  when  they 
stop  where  the  sphere  of  mere  physical  observation  terminates. 
But  those  who  seek  to  remodel  philosophy  upon  the  results  of 
that  observation  cannot  consistently  borrow  all  the  advantage  of 
anthropopsychic  language,  and  then  denounce  it  when  it  carries 
them  beyond  the  point  at  which  they  desire  to  stop.  If  in  the 
words  which  we  recognize  as  best  describing  the  facts  of  Nature 
there  be  elements  of  meaning  to  which  their  whole  force  and  de- 
scriptive power  is  due,  then  these  elements  of  meaning  must  be 
admitted  as  essential  to  a  just  conception  and  to  a  true  inter- 
pretation of  what  we  see.  The  analogies  which  help  us  to  un- 
derstand the  works  of  Nature  are  not,  as  it  were,  foreign  mate- 
rial imported  into  the  facts,  but  are  part  of  these  facts,  and  con- 
stitute the  light  which  shines  from  them  upon  the  Intellect  of 
Man.  In  exact  proportion  as  we  believe  that  Intellect  to  be  a 
product  of  Nature,  and  to  be  united  to  it  by  indissoluble  ties  of 
birth,  of  Structure,  and  of  Function,  in  the  same  proportion 
may  we  be  sure  that  its  Organs  of  vision  are  adjusted  to  the  re- 
alities of  the  world,  and  that  its  innate  perceptions  of  analogy 
and  resemblance  have  a  close  relation  to  the  truth.  The  theory 
of  Development  is  not  only  consistent  with  teleological  explana- 
tion, but  it  is  founded  on  teleology,  and  on  nothing  else.'  It 
sees  in  everything  the  results  of  a  System  which  is  ever  acting 
for  the  best,  always  producing  something  more  perfect  or 
more  beautiful  than  before,  and  incessantly  eliminating  what- 
ever is  faulty  or  less  perfectly  adapted  to  every  new  condition. 
Professor  Tyndall  himself  cannot  describe  this  System  without 
using  the  most  intensely  anthropopsychic  language:  "The 
continued  effort  of  animated  nature  is  to  improve  its  conditions 
and  raise  itself  to  a  loftier  level."  * 

*  Belfast  Address, 


172  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

Again  I  say,  it  is  quite  right  to  use  this  language,  provided 
its  ultimate  reference  to  Mind  be  admitted  and  not  repudiated 
But  if  this  language  be  persistently  applied  and  philosophically 
defended  as  applicable  to  material  Force,  otherwise  than  as  the 
instrument  and  tool  of  Mind,  then  it  is  language  involving  far 
more  than  the  absurdity  of  the  old  mediaeval  phrase  that  "  Na- 
ture abhors  a  vacuum."  It  ceases  to  be  a  mere  picturesque 
expression,  and  becomes  a  definite  ascription  to  Matter  of  the 
highest  attributes  of  Mind.  If  Nature  cannot  feel  "  abhor- 
rence," neither  can  it  cherish  "aspirations."  If  it  cannot  hate, 
neither  can  it  love,  nor  contrive,  nor  adjust,  nor  look  to  the 
future,  nor  think  about  "  loftier  levels  "  there. 

Professor  Tyndall  in  the  same  Address  has  given  us  an 
interesting  anecdote  of  a  very  celebrated  man  whom  the  world 
has  lately  lost.  He  tells  us  that  he  heard  the  great  Swiss 
naturalist  Agassiz  express  an  almost  sad  surprise  that  the 
Darwinian  theory  should  have  been  so  extensively  accepted  by 
the  best  intellects  of  our  time.  And  this  surprise  seems  again 
in  some  measure  to  have  surprised  Professor  Tyndall.  Now 
it  so  happens  that  I  have  perhaps  the  means  of  explaining  the 
real  difficulty  felt  by  Agassiz  in  accepting  the  modern  theory 
of  Evolution.  I  had  not  seen  that  distinguished  man  for  nearly 
five-and-thirty  years.  But  he  was  one  of  those  gifted  Beings 
who  stamp  an  indelible  impression  on  the  memory ;  and  in 
1842  he  had  left  an  enthusiastic  letter  on  my  father's  table  at 
Inveraray  on  finding  it  largely  occupied  by  scientific  works. 
Across  that  long  interval  of  time  I  ventured  lately  to  seek  a 
renewal  of  acquaintance,  and  during  the  year  which  proved  to 
be  the  last  of  his  life,  I  asked  him  some  questions  on  his  own 
views  on  the  history  and  origin  of  Organic  Forms.  In  his  reply 
Agassiz  sums  up  in  the  following  words  his  objection  to  the 
theory  of  Natural  Selection  as  affording  any  satisfying  explana- 
tion of  the  facts  for  which  it  professes  to  account : — "  The 
truth  is,  that  Life  has  all  the  wealth  of  endowment  of  the  most 
comprehensive  mental  manifestations,  and  none  of  the  simplic- 
ity of  physical  phenomena." 

Here  we  have  the  testimony  of  another  among  the  very 
greatest  of  modern  Observers  that  wealth — immense  and  im- 
measurable wealth — of  Mind  is  the  one  fact  above  all  others 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       173 

observable  in  Nature,  and  especially  in  the  adaptations  of 
Organic  Life.  It  was  because  he  could  see  no  adequate  place 
or  room  reserved  for  this  fact  in  the  theory  of  Development 
that  Agassiz  rejected  it  as  not  satisfying  the  conditions  of  the 
problem  to  be  solved.  Probably  this  may  be  the  fault  of  the 
forms  in  which  it  has  been  propounded,  and  of  the  strenuous 
endeavors  of  many  of  its  supporters  to  shut  out  all  interpreta- 
tions of  a  higher  kind.  But  of  this  we  may  be  sure,  that  if  men 
should  indeed  ultimately  become  convinced  that  species  have 
been  all  born  just  as  individuals  are  now  all  born,  and  that 
such  has  been  the  universal  method  of  Creation,  this  conviction 
will  not  only  be  found  to  be  soluble,  so  to  speak,  in  the  old 
beliefs  respecting  a  creative  Mind,  but  it  will  be  unintelligible 
and  inconceivable  without  them,  so  that  men  in  describing  the 
history  and  aim  and  direction  of  Evolution,  will  be  compelled 
to  use  substantially  the  same  language  in  which  they  have 
hitherto  spoken  of  the  history  of  Creation. 

Mr.  Mivart  has  indeed  remarked  in  a  very  able  work,*  as 
Mr.  Wallace  had  remarked  before  him,  that  the  teleological 
language  used  so  freely  by  Mr.  Darwin  and  others  is  purely 
metaphorical.  As  I  have  already  elsewhere  f  dealt  with  this 
criticism,  I  need  only  repeat  here,  what  cannot  be  insisted 
upon  too  firmly,  that  even  if  it  were  strictly  accurate,  it  had  no 
adverse  bearing  upon  the  evidence  which  this  language  of  so- 
called  metaphor  involves.  It  is  not  strictly  accurate  because 
there  is  no  real  element  of  metaphor  except  where  the  outward 
forms  of  the  human  Personality  are  ascribed  to  Nature.  Na- 
ture has  no  hands  and  no  brain ;  but  these  members,  even  in 
Man,  are  regarded  as  "  Organs,"  and  as  nothing  else — the 
visible  representatives  of  invisible  powers  :  and  where  the  names 
of  these  organs,  and  of  such  like,  are  not  figuratively  used  in 
respect  to  "Nature, — where  nothing  is  expressed  but  the  facts 
of  teleological  adaptation,  there  is  not,  properly  speaking,  any 
metaphor  at  all.  But  putting  this  aside  for  the  moment,  and 
granting  that  in  the  description  of  the  invisible  phenomena  of 
Mind  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  all  reference  to  the  outward  and 
visible  forms  in  which  these  phenomena  are  manifested  in  us — 

:  "  Genesis  of  Species." 
t  "  Reign  of  Law,"  Chap.  I, 


174  THE   UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

even  so,  this  metaphorical  element  does  not  affect  the  evidence- 
supplied  by  the  inevitable  phraseology  of  all  natural  philoso- 
phers when  it  is  their  business  to  describe  what  they  see  in 
Nature.  For  what  purpose  are  metaphors  used  ?  Is  it  not  as 
a  means  of  making  plain  to  our  own  understandings  the  princi- 
ple of  things,  and  of  tracing  amid  the  varieties  of  phenomena 
the  essential  Unities  of  Nature  ?  In  this  sense  all  Language 
is  full  of  metaphor,  being  indeed  composed  of  little  else.  That 
is  to  say,  the  whole  structure  and  architecture  of  Language 
consists  of  words  which  transfer  and  apply  to  one  sphere  of 
investigation  ideas  which  have  been  derived  from  another,  be- 
cause there  also  the  same  ideas  are  seen  to  be  expressed,  only 
under  some  difference  of  form.  Accordingly,  when  naturalists, 
describing  plants  or  animals,  use  the  language  of  Contrivance 
to  describe  the  Adaptations  of  Function,  they  must  use  it  be- 
cause they  feel  it  to  be  a  help  in  the  understanding  of  the  facts. 
When,  for  example,  we  are  told  that  flowers  are  constructed  in 
a  peculiar  manner,  "in  order  that  "  they  may  catch  the  probos- 
ces  of  Moths  or  the  backs  of  Bees,  and  that  this  adaptation 
again  is  necessary  "  in  order  that "  these  insects  should  carry 
the  fertilizing  pollen  from  flower  to  flower,  nothing  more  may 
be  immediately  intended  by  the  writer  than  that  all  this  elabo- 
rate mechanism  does  as  a  matter  of  fact  attain  this  end,  and 
that  it  may  be  fitly  described  "  as  if  "  it  had  been  arranged  "in 
order  that "  these  things  might  happen.  But  this  use  of  lan- 
guage is  none  the  less  an  acknowledgment  of  the  truth  that 
the  facts  of  Nature  are  best  brought  home  and  explained  to  the 
Understanding,  and  to  the  Intelligence  of  Man,  by  stating  them 
in  terms  of  the  relation  which  they  obviously  bear  to  the  famil- 
iar operations  of  our  own  Mind  and  Spirit. 

And  this  is  the  invariable  result  of  all  physical  inquiry.  In 
this  sense  Nature  is  essentially  anthropopsychic.  Man  sees 
his  own  Mind  everywhere  reflected  in  it — his  own,  not  in 
quantity  but  in  quality — his  own  fundamental  attributes  of  In- 
tellect, and,  to  a  wonderful  and  mysterious  degree,  even  his 
own  methods  of  operation. 

It  is  really  curious  and  instructive  to  observe  how  even  those 
who  struggle  hardest  to  avoid  the  language  of  Anthropopsy- 
chism  in  the  interpretations  of  Nature  are  compelled  to  make 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       175 

use  of  the  analogies  of  our  own  mental  operations  as  the  only 
possible  exponents  of  what  we  see.  Let  us  look,  for  example, 
at  the  definition  of  Life  given  by  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer.  It  is 
a  very  old  endeavor  to  construct  such  definitions,  and  not  a 
very  profitable  one  :  inasmuch  as  Life  is  only  known  to  us  as 
itself,  and  all  attempts  to  reduce  it  to  other  conceptions  are 
never  anything  but  mere  playing  with  empty  words.  But  it  is 
not  without  instruction  to  observe  that  Mr.  Spencer's  laborious 
analysis  comes  to  this  :  "  Life  is  the  continuous  Adjustment  of 
internal  relations  to  external  relations."  Bare,  abstract,  and 
evasive  of  the  most  characteristic  facts  as  this  formula  is,  it 
does  contain  at  least  one  definite  idea  as  to  how  Life  comes  to 
be.  Life  is  an  "  Adjustment."  This  is  a  purely  anthropopsy- 
chic  conception,  conveying  the  idea  of  that  kind  of  co-ordina- 
tion between  different  powers  or  elements  which  is  the  result  of 
constructive  Purpose.  I  have  already  pointed  out  in  a  former 
chapter  that  all  combinations  are  not  Adjustments.  The 
whole  force  and  meaning  of  the  word  consists  in  its  reference 
to  intentional  arrangement.  No  combination  can  properly  be 
called  an  Adjustment  if  it  be  purely  accidental.  When,  there- 
fore, Life  is  represented  as  an  Adjustment,  this  is  the  mental 
image  which  is  reproduced  ;  and  in  so  far  as  it  does  reproduce 
this  idea,  and  does  consciously  express  it,  the  formula  has  at 
least  some  intelligible  meaning.  If,  indeed,  it  has  any  plausi- 
bility or  approach  to  truth  at  all,  this  is  the  element  in  it  from 
which  this  plausibility  is  derived. 

We  may  take  another  case.  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,  a  writer 
of  great  distinction  both  as  a  critic  and  as  a  poet,  has  invented 
a  new  phrase  for  that  conception  of  a  Divine  Being  which 
alone,  as  the  ultimate  residuum  of  thought,  can  be  justified  by 
such  evidence  as  we  possess..  And  what  is  that  phrase? 
"The  Eternal,  not  ourselves,  which  makes  for  Righteousness." 
It  is  evident  that  whatever  meaning  there  may  be  in  this  artifi- 
cial and  cumbrous  phrase  is  entirely  derived  from  its  Anthro- 
popsychism.  An  Agency  which  "  makes  for  "  something — that 
something,  too,  being  in  the  future,  and  being  also  in  itself  an 
abstract  moral  and  intellectual  conception — what  can  such  an 
agency  be  conceived  to  be  ?  "  Making  for  "  an  object  of  any 
kind  is  a  purely  human  image — an  image,  too,  derived  prima- 


176  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

rlly  not  from  the  highest  efforts  of  human  Will,  but  from  those 
which  are  represented  in  the  exercises  of  the  Body,  and  the 
skill  with  which,  in  athletic  contentions,  some  distant  goal  may 
be  reached  and  won.  Such  is  the  attempt  of  a  very  eminent 
man  to  instruct  us  how  we  are  to  think  of  God  without  seeing 
in  Him  or  in  His  world  anything  analogous  to  our  own  thought 
and  work. 

Nor  is  it  wonderful  that  this  attempt  should  fail,  when  we 
consider  what  it  is  an  attempt  to  do — to  establish  an  absolute 
separation  between  Man  and  Nature  ;  to  set  up  Man  as  some- 
thing above  Nature,  and  outside  of  it ;  and  yet  to  affirm  that 
there  is  no  other  Being,  and  no  other  Intelligence,  in  a  like 
position.  And  if  anything  can  render  this  attempt  more  un- 
reasonable, it  must  be  the  further  attempt  to  reach  this  result 
through  science, — science,  the  very  possibility  of  which  depends 
on,  and  consists  in,  the  possibility  of  reducing  all  natural  phe- 
nomena within  the  terms  of  human  thought,  so  that  its  highest 
generalizations  are  always  the  most  abstract  intellectual  con- 
ceptions. Science  is  the  systematic  knowledge  of  relations , 
but  that  which  perceives  relations  must  be  itself  related.  All 
explanation  consists  in  nothing  else  than  in  establishing  the  re- 
lation which  some  order  of  external  facts  bears  to  some  corre- 
sponding order  of  Perception  and  of  Thought ;  and  it  follows 
from  this  truth,  that  the  highest  explanations  of  phenomena 
must  always  be  those  which  establish  such  relations  with  the 
highest  faculties  of  our  nature.  Professor  Tyndall,  in  another 
part  of  his  Belfast  Address,  like  many  other  writers  of  the 
present  day,  goes  the  length  of  saying  that  the  great  test  of 
.physical  truth  is  what  may  be  called  its  "  representability," — 
that  is  to  say,  the  degree  in  which  a  given  physical  conception  can, 
from  the  analogies  of  experience,  be  represented  in  thought. 
But  if  our  power  of  picturing  a  physical  fact  distinctly  be  indeed 
an  indication  of  a  true  physical  analogy,  how  much  more  distinct- 
ly than  any  physical  fact  can  we  picture  the  characteristic  work- 
ings of  our  own  mental  constitution  ?  Yet  these  are  the  con- 
ceptions which,  we  are  told,  we  are  not  to  cherish,  because 
they  are  anthropomorphic — or,  in  other  words,  because  of  the 
very  fact  that  they  are  so  familiar  to  us,  and  that  their  mental 
representability  is  so  complete. 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.      177 

Some,  indeed,  of  our  physical  teachers,  conscious  of  this  nec- 
essary and  involuntary  Anthropopsychism  of  human  thought 
and  speech,  struggle  hard  to  expel  it  by  inventing  phrases 
\/hich  shall  as  far  as  possible  avoid  it.  But  it  is  well  worthy 
of  observation,  that  in  exact  proportion  as  these  phrases  do 
avoid  it,  they  become  incompetent  to  describe  fully  the  facts  of 
science.  For  example,  let  us  take  again  those  incipient  changes 
in  the  substance  of  an  egg  by  which  the  Organs  of  the  future 
animal  are  successively  laid  down — changes  which  have  all 
reference  to  a  purely  purposive  adaptation  of  that  substance  to 
the  future  discharge  of  separate  and  special  functions.  I  have 
already  referred*  to  the  fact  that  these  changes  are  now  com- 
monly described  as  "  differentiations,"  an  abstract  expression 
which  simply  means  the  establishment  of  differences,  without 
any  reference  to  the  peculiar  nature  of  those  differences,  or 
their  relations  to  each  other  and  to  the  whple.  But  the  inad- 
equacy of  this  word  to  express  the  facts  is  surely  obvious. 
The  processes  of  dissolution  and  decay  are  processes  of 
"  differentiation "  quite  as  much  as  the  process  of  growth 
and  adaptation  to  living  functions.  Blood  is  "  differentiated  " 
just  as  much  when,  upon  being  spilt  upon  the  ground,  it 
separates  into  fibrin,  serum,  and  corpuscles,  or  finally  into 
its  inorganic  elements,  as  when,  circulating  in  the  vessels, 
it  bathes  and  feeds  the  various  tissues  of  the  living  Body. 
But  these  two  operations — these  two  kinds  of  "  differentiation" 
— are  not  only  distinct,  but  absolutely  opposite  in  their  na- 
ture, and  there  does  not  seem  to  be  much  light  in  that  philoso- 
phy which  insists  on  using  the  same  formula  of  expression  to 
describe  them  both.  It  is  a  phrase  which  empties  the  facts, 
as  we  can  see  and  know  them,  of  all  that  is  special  in  our  knowl- 
edge of  them. 

There  is  another  conspicuous  example  of  the  same  misuse  of 
language  which  si  common  in  connection  with  phenomena  of 
the  very  highest  interest  and  importance  in  the  science  of 
Physiology.  I  refer  to  the  regular  formula  of  words  which  is 
almost  always  employed  to  designate  and  define  the  automatic 
actions  of  the  animal  frame.  The  set  phrase  for  this  class  of 
movement  is  "  Reflex  Action."  Now  this  phrase  js  not  only 

*  Chap.  I.  p.  25. 
13 


178  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

wholly  incompetent  from  weakness  and  insufficiency  to  convey 
any  adequate  conception  of  the  facts  as  they  exist  in  Nature, 
but  worse  than  this — it  involves  conceptions  and  suggests  analo- 
gies which  are  altogether  misleading  and  erroneous.  "  Reflex  " 
etymologically  means  of  course  "  turned  back  "  or  "  bent  back." 
And  this  is  the  sense  in  which  it  is  properly  and  accurately  ap- 
plied to  such  phenomena,  for  example,  as  the  reflection  of 
Light  or  of  Radiant  Heat.  In  these  cases  the  Radiant  Energy 
impinges  upon  some  surface,  and  is  turned  or  bent  back  from 
it  so  as  to  take  a  new  path  in  a  different  direction.  But  the 
essential  idea  in  all  such  cases  is  that  in  both  paths — the  path 
of  incidence,  and  the  new  path  of  reflection — the  original  En- 
ergy is  the  same  in  kind.  The  light  which  strikes  the  surface 
of  the  Sea  is  nothing  but  light  when  it  glances  off  the  liquid 
surface  and  appears  as  a  vivid  gleam  upon  the  horizon.  Some 
portions  indeed  of  a  beam  may  be  lost  or  absorbed  in  the  proc- 
ess of  reflection,  but  no  new  element  is  added.  It  comes  to 
the  reflecting  surface  as  ethereal  undulations,  and  it  leaves  it 
again  as  ethereal  undulations,  and  as  nothing  else. 

Now,  there  is  no  analogy  whatever  between  this  kind  of 
movement  or  of  action  and  the  highly  complex  movements 
which  result  automatically  in  the  living  frame  of  animals  from 
the  stimulation  of  some  external  nerve.  It  is  quite  true  that 
some  movement  goes  inward  to  the  brain,  or  to  some  subor- 
dinate nervous  centre,  and  that  some  movement  comes  back 
from  that  centre  in  return.  But  the  movement  which  goes  is 
not  the  same  movement  which  returns.  The  two  movements 
are  not  only  far  from  being  identical,  but  they  are  not  even  the 
same  in  kind.  We  might  as  well  describe  it  as  "  reflex  action  " 
when  some  great  fleet  weighs  anchor  and  puts  out  to  sea  in 
response  to  a  signal  from  the  flagship ;  or  when  gunners  envel- 
oped in  a  cloud  of  smoke  aim  their  artillery  by  directions  from 
the  top.  These  are  no  random  similes.  They  are  perhaps  the 
closest  analogies  which  could  be  chosen  to  illustrate  the  won- 
ders which  are  performed  by  the  animal  Organism  under  some 
simple  stimulus  applied  to  the  termination  of  a  nerve.  In  itself 
that  stimulus  may  be  said  to  be  a  signal  and  nothing  more. 
The  reading  of  it  involves  the  interpretation  of  a  Code,  and  the 
obeying  of  the  signal  by  responsive  action  involves  the  simul- 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.      179 

taneous  and  the  co-ordinated  action  of  a  host  of  living  structures. 
In  all  such  cases  the  action  which  begins  is  not  the  same  kind 
of  action  as  that  which  follows.  The  initial  movement  is  one 
which  is  uniform  and  simple,  having  no  other  office  than  to 
rouse,  and  to  suggest  or  order.  The  resulting  movements  are 
multiform  and  complex,  with  all  the  functions  of  interpretation 
and  of  obedience.  There  is  nothing  whatever  here  correspond- 
ing to  the  mere  bendings  and  repetitions  of  physical  reflec- 
tion. 

If  there  be  any  purely  and  merely  physical  relation  between 
the  tremors  of  a  nerve  and  the  complicated  movements  which 
arise  in  answer,  it  is  a  relation  not  of  identity  or  even  of  like- 
ness, but  a  relation,  on  the  contrary,  of  such  essential  differ- 
ence as  to  correspond  better  with  the  idea  of  some  total  trans- 
mutation. But  even  this  is  a  feeble  image,  inasmuch  as  it 
retains  a  trace  of  the  idea  of  some  underlying  and  substantial 
sameness.  But  the  facts  of  Nature  demand  imperatively  that 
we  should  admit  into  our  conception  of  the  results  which  are 
concealed  under  the  words  Reflex  Action,  certain  elements 
other  than  those  of  mere  mechanical  motion,  however  changed 
in  direction  or  transmuted  in  form.  In  observing  the  effects, 
and  in  reading  accounts  of  the  effects,  of  what  is  called 
"  Reflex  Action "  in  the  animal  economy,  and  before  I  had 
submitted  the  phrase  to  strict  analysis,  I  had  long  felt  that 
sense  of  confusion  which  results  from  the  presentation  to  the 
Mind  of  false  analogies,  of  incompetent  description,  and  of 
formulae  of  expression  which,  pretending  to  be  scientific,  are  in 
reality  nothing  but  the  wilful  shutting-out  of  knowledge.  It  is, 
however,  most  satisfactory  to  find  that  in  one  of  the  latest  and 
best  text-books  of  Physiology,  that  of  Professor  Forster  of 
Cambridge,  there  is  a  full  confession  of  the  incompetency  of 
such  words  as  "  Reflex  Action "  to  describe  the  relation 
between  the  stimulus  of  an  "  afferent "  nerve  and  the  "  efferent " 
movements  which  are  carried  into  responsive  pre-adjusted 
action.  The  two  classes  of  impulse  ami  of  resulting  movement 
are  justly  described  as  really  "  incommensurate."  And  whilst 
the  purely  mechanical  or  physical  relation  of  mere  bending  or 
turning  is  thus  condemned  not  only  as  an  inadequate,  but  as 
essentially  a  false  image  of  the  real  relation  which  subsists 


l8o  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

between  the  antecedent  and  the  consequent  phenomena,  that 
real  relation  is  described  and  admitted  in  the  following  re- 
markable passage  : — "  In  the  more  complex  reflex  actions  of 
the  brainless  frog  and  in  other  cases,  the  relation  is  of  such  a 
kind  as  that  the  resulting  movement  bears  an  adaptation  to  the 
stimulus ;  the  foot  is  withdrawn  from  the  stimulus,  or  the  move- 
ment is  calculated  to  push  or  wipe  away  the  stimulus.  In 
other  words,  a  certain  purpose  is  evident  in  the  reflex  action."  * 

Here  we  have  the  formula  of  expression  which  is  almost 
universally  employed  by  Physiologists  to  describe  some  of  the 
most  important  phenomena  of  their  science,  authoritatively 
detected  and  exposed  ;  whilst  the  mental  element  of  pre-adjust- 
ment  and  adaptation,  which  such  phrases  are  invented  to  avoid 
and  to  conceal,  is  brought  out  as  the  most  prominent  and 
characteristic  feature  in  the  scientific  appreciation  and  descrip- 
tion of  facts. 

It  is  possible,  no  doubt,  by  artifices  of  language  similar  to 
that  which  has  been  here  exposed,  to  deprive  the  facts  of 
Nature — or  at  least  appear  to  deprive  them — of  their  highest 
significance.  More  foolish  than  the  fabled  Ostrich,  we  may 
try  to  shut  our  eyes  against  our  own  perceptions,  or  we  may 
refuse  to  register  them  in  our  language — resorting,  for  the 
sake  of  evasion,  to  some  juggleries  of  speech.  "  Potential 
existence "  is  another  of  those  vague  abstract  conceptions 
which  may  be,  and  is,  employed  for  a  like  purpose.  It  may  be 
applied  indiscriminately  to  a  mere  slumbering  force,  or  to  an 
unfulfilled  intention,  or  to  an  undeveloped  mental  faculty,  or  to 
an  elaborate  preparation  of  foresight  and  design.  If  we  desire 
» to  take  refuge  from  the  necessity  of  forming  any  distinct  con- 
ceptions, such  phrases  are  eminently  convenient  for  the 
purpose,  whilst  under  cover  of  them  we  may  cheat  ourselves 
into  the  belief  that  we  have  got  hold  of  some  definite  idea,  and 
perhaps  even  of  an  important  truth. 

All  who  are  puzzled  and  perplexed  by  the  prevalent  teaching 
on  these  high  matters  should  subject  the  language  in  which  it 
is  conveyed  to  a  careful,  systematic,  and  close  analysis.  It 
will  be  found  to  fall  within  one  or  other  of  these  three 
classes  : — First,  there  is  the  phraseology  of  those  who,  without 

*  "Text-Book  of  Physiology,"  Chap.  III.  p.  117. 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       l8l 

any  thought  either  of  theological  dogma  or  of  philosophical 
speculation,  are,  above  all  ^hings,  observers,  and  who  describe 
the  facts  they  see  in  whatever  language  appears  most  fully 
and  most  naturally  to  convey  what  they  see  to  others.  The 
language  of  such  men  is  what  Mr.  Darwin's  language  almost 
always  is — eminently  teleological  and  anthropopsychic.  Next, 
there  is  the  language  of  those  who  purposely  shut  out  this 
element  of  thought,  and  condemn  it  as  unscientific.  The  lan- 
guage of  this  class  is  full  of  the  vague  abstract  phrases  to  which 
I  have  referred — "  differentiation  " — "  molecular  change  " — 
"  harmony  with  environment,"  and  others  of  a  like  kind — 
phrases  which,  in  exact  proportion  to  their  abstract  character, 
are  evasive,  and  fall  short  of  describing  what  is  really  seen. 
Lastly,  we  have  the  language  of  those  who  habitually  ascribe  to 
Matter  the  properties  of  Mind  ;  using  this  language  not  meta- 
phorically, like  the  old  Aristotelians  whom  they  despise,  but 
literally — declaring  that  Mind,  as  we  know  it,  must  be  con- 
sidered as  having  been  contained  "potentially"  in  Matter,  and 
was  once  nothing  but  a  cosmic  vapor  or  a  fiery  cloud.  Well 
may  Professor  Tyndall  call  upon  us  "  radically  to  change  our 
notions  of  Matter,"  if  this  be  a  true  view  of  it ;  for  in  this  view 
it  becomes  equivalent  to  "  Nature  "  in  that  largest  and  widest 
interpretation  to  which  I  referred  at  the  close  of  the  last 
chapter — viz.,  that  in  which  Nature  is  understood  as  the 
whole  System  of  things  in  which  we  live,  and  of  which  we  form 
apart.  But  if  this  philosophy  be  true,  let  us  at  least  cease  to 
condemn,  as  the  type  of  all  absurdity,  the  old  mediaeval 
explanations  of  material  phenomena,  which  ascribe  to  them 
affections  of  the  Mind.  If  Matter  be  so  widened  in  meaning 
as  to  be  the  mother  and  scource  of  Mind,  it  must  surely  be 
right  and  safe  enough  to  see  in  material  things  those  disposi- 
tions and  activities  which  are  said  to  be  nothing  but  its 
product  in  ourselves. 

The  truth  is,  that  this  conception  of  Matter  and  of  Nature, 
which  is  associated  with  vehement  denunciations  of  Anthro- 
pomorphism, is  itself  founded  on  nothing  else  but  Anthropo- 
morphism pushed  to  its  very  farthest  limit.  It  is  entirely 
derived  from  and  founded  on  the  fact  that  Mind,  as  we  see  it 
in  ourselves,  is  in  this  world  inseparably  connected  with  a  mate- 


l82  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

rial  Organism,  and  on  the  further  assumption  that  Mind  is 
inconceivable  or  cannot  be  inferred  except  in  the  same  connec- 
tion. This  would  be  a  very  unsafe  conclusion  even  if  the  con- 
nection between  our  Bodies  and  our  Minds  were  of  such  a 
nature  that  we  could  not  conceive  the  separation  of  the  two. 
But  so  far  is  this  from  being  the  case,  that,  as  Professor  Tyn- 
dall  most  truly  says,  "  it  is  a  connection  which  we  know  only  as 
an  inexplicable  fact,  and  we  try  to  soar  in  a  vacuum  when  we 
seek  to  comprehend  it."  The  universal  testimony  of  human 
Speech — that  sure  record  of  the  deepest  metaphysical  truths — 
proves  that'  we  cannot  but  think  of  the  Body  and  the  Mind  as 
separate — of  the  Mind  as  our  proper  selves,  and  of  the  Body  as 
indeed  external  to  it.  Let  us  never  forget  that  Life,  as  we 
know  it  here  below,  is  the  antecedent  or  the  cause  of  Organi- 
zation, and  not  its  product ;  that  the  peculiar  combinations  of 
Matter  which  are  the  homes  and  abodes  of  Life  are  prepared 
and  shaped  under  the  control  and  guidance  of  that  mysterious 
Power  which  we  know  as  Vitality  ;  and  that  no  discovery  of 
science  has  ever  been  able  to  reduce  it  to  a  lower  level,  or  to 
identify  it  with  any  Purely  material  Force.  And,  lastly,  we 
must  remember  that  even  if  it  be  true  that  Life  and  Mind  have 
some  inseparable  connection  with  the  Forces  which  are  known 
to  us  as  material,  this  would  not  make  the  supreme  agencies  in 
Nature,  or  Nature  as  a  whole,  less  anthropopsychic,  but  greatly 
more  ;  so  that  it  would,  if  possible,  be  even  more  unreasonable 
than  it  is  now  to  condemn  Man  when  he  sees  in  Nature  a  Mind 
having  real  analogies  with  his  own. 

And  now  what  is  the  result  of  this  argument — what  is  its 
scope  and  bearing  ?  Truly  it  is  a  very  wide  scope  indeed — 
nothing  less  than  this  :  that  nothing  in  Philosophy,  in  Theol- 
ogy, in  Belief,  can  be  reasonably  rejected  or  condemned  on  the 
sole  ground  that  it  is  anthropopsychic.  That  is  to  say,  no 
adverse  presumption  can  arise  against  any  Conception,  or  any 
Idea,  or  any  Doctrine  on  the  mere  ground  that  it  rests  on  the 
analogies  of  Human  Thought.  This  is  a  position— purely  neg- 
ative and  defensive  though  it  be — from  which  we  cannot  be 
dislodged,  and  which  holds  under  its  destructive  fire  a  thousand 
different  avenues  of  attack. 

But  this  is  not  all.     Another  result  of  the  same  argument  is  to 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       183 

establish  a  presumption  the  other  way.  All  the  analogies  of 
Human  Thought  are  in  themselves  analogies  of  Nature,  and  in 
proportion  as  they  are  built  up  or  are  perceived  by  Mind  in  its 
higher  attributes  and  work,  they  are  part  and  parcel  of  natural 
truth.  Man — he  whom  the  Greeks  call  Anthropos,  because,  as 
it  has  been  supposed,  he  is  the  only  Being  whose  look  is 
upwards — Man  is  a  part  of  Nature,  and  no  artificial  definitions 
can  separate  him  from  it.  And  yet  in  another  sense  it  is  true 
that  Man  is  above  Nature — outside  of  it ;  and  in  this  aspect  he 
is  the  very  type  and  image  of  the  "  Supernatural."  The 
instinct  which  sees  this  image  in  him  is  a  true  instinct,  and  the 
consequent  desire  of  atheistic  philosophy  to  banish  Anthropo- 
psychism  from  our  conceptions  is  dictated  by  an  obvious  logical 
necessity.  But  in  this  necessity  the  system  is  self-condemned. 
Every  advance  of  science  is  a  new  testimony  to  the  supremacy 
of  Mind,  and  to  the  correspondence  between  the  Mind  of  Man 
and  the  Mind  which  is  supreme  in  Nature.  Nor  yet  will  it  be 
possible,  in  the  face  of  science,  to  revive  that  Nature-worship 
which  breathes  in  so  many  of  the  old  Religions  of  Mankind. 
For  in  exalting  Mind,  science  is  ever  making  plainer  and 
plainer  the  inferior  position  of  the  purely  physical  aspects  of 
Nature — the  subordinate  character  of  what  we  know  as  Matter 
and  material  Force.  Has  not  science,  for  example,  even  in 
these  last  few  years,  rendered  forever  impossible  one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  natural  of  the  Idolatries  of  the  world  ?  It  has 
disclosed  to  us  the  physical  constitution  of  the  Sun — that  great 
heavenly  body  which  is  one  of  the  chief  proximate  causes  of  all 
that  we  see  and  enjoy  on  Earth,  and  which  has  seemed  most 
naturally  the  very  image  of  the  God-head  to  millions  of  the 
human  race.  We  now  know  the  Sun  to  be  simply  a  very  large 
globe  of  solid  and  of  gaseous  matter,  in  a  state  of  fierce  and 
flaming  incandescence.  No  man  can  worship  a  ball  of  fire, 
however  big ;  nor  can  he  feel  grateful  to  it,  nor  love  it,  nor  adore 
it,  even  though  its  beams  be  to  him  the  very  light  of  life. 
Neither  in  it,  nor  in  the  mere  Physical  Forces  of  which  it  is  the 
centre,  can  we  see  anything  approaching  to  the  rank  and  dig- 
nity of  even  the  humblest  human  heart.  "  What  know  we 
greater  than  the  Soul  ?  "  It  is  only  when  we  come  to  think  of 
the  co-ordination  and  adjustment  of  these  physical  Forces  as 


184  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

part  of  the  mechanism  of  the  heavens — it  is  only,  in  short,  when 
we  recognize  the  mental — that  is,  the  anthropopsychic — ele- 
ment, that  the  Universe  becomes  glorious  and  intelligible,  as 
indeed  a  Cosmos ;  a  System  of  Order  and  Beauty  adapted  to 
the  various  ends  which  we  see  actually  attained,  and  to  a  thou- 
sand others  which  we  can  only  guess.  No  philosophy  can  be  true 
which  allows  that  we  see  in  Nature  the  most  intimate  relations 
with  our  intellectual  conceptions  of  Space  and  Time  and  Force 
and  Numerical  Proportion,  but  denies  that  we  can  ever  see  any 
similar  relation  with  our  conceptions  of  Purpose  and  Design,  or 
with  those  still  higher  conceptions  which  are  embodied  in  our 
sense  of  Justice  and  in  our  love  of  Righteousness,  and  in  our 
admiration  of  the  "  quality  of  Mercy."  These  elements  in  the 
Mind  of  Man  are  not  less  certain  than  others  to  have  some  cor- 
relative in  the  Mind  which  rules  in  Nature.  Assuredly,  in  the 
supreme  Government  of  the  Universe  these  are  not  less  likely 
than  other  parts  of  our  mental  constitution  to  have  some  part  of 
the  natural  System  related  to  them — so  related  that  the  knowl- 
edge of  that  System  shall  be  at  once  their  interpretation  and 
fulfilment.  Neither  brute  Matter  nor  inanimate  Force  can  sup- 
ply either  the  one  or  the  other.  If  there  be  one  truth  more  cer- 
tain than  another,  one  conclusion  more  securely  founded  than 
another,  not  on  Reason  only,  but  on  every  other  Faculty  of 
our  nature,  it  is  this — that  there  is  nothing  but  Mind  that  we 
can  respect  ;  nothing  but  Heart  that  we  can  love  „  nothing  but 
a  perfect  combination  of  the  two  that  we  can  adore. 

And  yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  among  the  many  difficulties 
and  the  many  mysteries  by  which  we  are  surrounded,  perhaps 
the  greatest  of  all  difficulties  and  the  deepest  of  all  mysteries 
concerns  the  limits  within  which  we  can,  and  beyond  which  we 
cannot,  suppose  that  we  bear  the  image  of  Him  who  is  the 
source  of  Life.  It  seems  as  if,  on  either  side,  our  thoughts  are 
in  danger  of  doing  some  affront  to  the  Majesty  of  Heaven — on 
the  one  hand,  if  we  suppose  the  Creator  to  have  made  us  with 
an  intense  desire  to  know  Him,  but  yet  destitute  of  any  faculties 
capable  of  forming  even  the  faintest  conception  of  His  nature ; 
on  the  other  hand,  if  we  suppose  that  creatures  such  as  (only  too 
well)  we  know  ourselves  to  be,  can  image  the  High  and  the 
Holy  One  who  inhabiteth  Eternity.  Both  these  aspects  of  the 


MAN  AS  THE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL.       185 

truth  are  vividly  represented  in  the  language  of  the  great  Proph- 
ets of  Humanity  who  "  at  sundry  times  and  in  divers  man- 
ners "  have  spoken  most  powerfully  to  the  world  upon  Divine 
things.  On  the  one  hand  we  have  such  strong  but  simple  im- 
ages as  those  which  represent  the  Almighty  as  "  walking  in  the 
garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day,"  or  as  speaking  to  the  Jewish 
'lawgiver  "  face  to  face,  as  a  man  speaketh  with  his  friend ,  "  on 
the  other  hand  we  have  the  solemn  and  emphatic  declaration  of 
St.  John  that  "  no  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time."  In  the 
sublime  poetry  of  Job  we  have  at  once  the  most  touching  and 
almost  despairing  complaints  of  the  inaccessibility  and  inscruta- 
bility of  God,  and  also  the  most  absolute  confidence  in  such  a 
knowledge  of  His  character  as  to  support  and  justify  unbounded 
trust.  In  the  Psalms  we  have  these  words  addressed  to  the 
wicked  as  conveying  the  most  severe  of  all  rebukes,  "Thou 
thoughtest  that  I  was  altogether  such  an  one  as  thyself." 

And  perhaps  this  word  "  altogether "  indicates  better  than 
any  other  the  true  reconciliation  of  apparent  contradictions.  In 
the  far  higher  light  which  Christianity  claims  to  have  thrown  on 
the  relations  of  Man  to  God,  the  same  solution  is  in  clearer 
terms  presented  to  us.  "  Knowing  in  part  and  prophesying  in 
part,"  "  Seeing  through  a  glass  darkly,"  and  many  other  forms 
of  expression,  imply  at  oncet  he  reality  and  yet  the  partial  char- 
acter of  the  truths  which  on  these  high  matters  our  faculties  en- 
able us  to  attain.  And  this  idea  is  not  only  consistent,  but  is 
inseparably  connected  with  that  Sense  of  Limitation  which  we 
have  already  seen  to  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  signifi- 
cant facts  connected  with  our  mental  constitution.  There  is 
not  one  of  the  higher  powers  of  our  mind  in  respect  of  which  we 
do  not  feel  that  we  are  tied  and  bound  by  the  weight  of  our  in- 
firmities. Therefore  we  can  have  no  difficulty  in  conceiving  all 
our  own  powers  exalted  to  an  indefinite  degree.  And  thus  it  is 
that  although  all  Goodness,  and  Power  and  Knowledge  must, 
in  respect  to  quality,  be  conceived  of  as  we  know  them  in  our- 
selves, it  does  not  follow  that  they  can  only  be  conceived  of  ac- 
cording to  the  measure  which  we  ourselves  supply. 

These  considerations  show — first,  that  as  the  human  Mind  is 
the  highest  created  thing  of  which  we  have  any  knowledge,  its 
conceptions  of  what  is  greatest  in  the  highest  degree  must  be 


l86  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

founded  on  what  it  knows  to  be  the  greatest  and  highest  in  it- 
self ,  and,  secondly,  that  we  have  no  difficulty  in  understanding 
how  this  image  of  the  Highest  may,  and  must  be,  faint — without 
being  at  all  unreal  or  untrue. 

There  are,  moreover,  as  we  have  seen,  some  remarkable  feat- 
ures connected  with  our  consciousness  of  limitation  pointing  to 
the  conclusion  that  we  have  faculties  enabling  us  to  recognize 
certain  truths  when  they  are  presented  to  us,  which  we  could 
never  have  discovered  for  ourselves.  The  sense  of  mystery 
which  is  sometimes  so  oppressive  to  us,  and  which  is  never 
more  oppressive  than  when  we  try  to  fathom  and  understand 
some  of  the  commonest  questions  affecting  our  own  life  and 
nature,  suggests  and  confirms  this  representation  of  the  facts. 
For  this  sense  of  oppression  can  only  arise  from  some  Organs 
of  mental  vision  watching  for  a  light  which  they  have  been 
formed  to  see,  but  from  which  our  own  investigations  cannot  lift 
the  veil.  If  that  veil  is  to  be  lifted  at  all,  the  evidence  is  that  it 
must  be  lifted  for  us.  Physical  science  does  not  even  tend  to 
solve  any  one  of  the  ultimate  questions  which  it  concerns  us 
most  to  know,  and  which  it  interests  us  most  to  ask.  It  is  ac- 
cording to  the  analogy  and  course  of  Nature  that  to  these  ques- 
tions there  should  be  some  answering  voice,  and  that  it  should 
tell  us  things  such  as  we  are  able  in  some  measure  to  under- 
stand. Nor  ought  it  to  be  a  thing  incredible  to  us — or  even 
difficult  to  believe — that  the  system  disclosed  should  be  in  a 
sense  antfaropopsychic — that  is  to  say,  that  it  should  bear  some 
very  near  relation  to  our  own  forms  of  thought — to  our  own  fac- 
ulties of  Mind,  .and  Soul,  and  Spirit.  For  all  we  do  know,  and 
all  the  processes  of  thought  by  which  knowledge  is  acquired,  in- 
volve and  imply  the  truth  that  our  mind  is  indeed  made  in  some 
real  sense  in  the  imageof  the  Creator,  although  intellectually  its 
powers  are  very  limited,  and  morally  its  condition  is  very  low. 

In  this  last  element  of  consciousness,  however — not  the  lim- 
itation of  our  intellectual  powers,  but  the  unworthiness  of  our 
moral  character — we  come  upon  a  fact  differing  from  any  other 
which  we  have  hitherto  considered.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  assign 
to  it  any  consistent  place  in  the  Unities  of  Nature.  What  it  is 
and  what  it  appears  to  indicate,  must  form  the  subject  of  an- 
other chapter. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ON  THE  MORAL   CHARACTER  OP   MAN. 

THE  Consciousness  of  Unworthiness  in  respect  to  moral 
character  is  a  fact  as  fundamental  and  as  universal  in  the  hu- 
man mind  as  the  Consciousness  of  Limitation  in  respect  to  in- 
tellectual power.  Both  of  them  may  exist  in  a  form  so  rudi- 
mentary as  to  be  hardly  recognizable.  The  limits  of  our  Intel- 
ligence may  be  felt  only  in  a  dim  sense  of  unsatisfied  curiosity. 
The  faultiness  of  our  character  may  be  recognized  only  in  the 
vaguest  emotions  of  occasional  self-reproach.  But  as  the 
knowledge  of  Mankind  extends,  and  as  the  cultivation  of  their 
moral  faculties  improves,  both  these  great  elements  of  con- 
sciousness become  more  and  more  prominent,  and  occupy  a 
larger  and  larger  place  in  the  horizon  of  their  thoughts.  It  is 
always  the  men  who  know  most  who  feel  most  how  limited 
their  knowledge  is.  And  so  likewise  it  is  always  the  loftiest 
spirits  who  are  most  conscious  of  the  infirmities  which  beset 
them. 

But  although  these  two  great  facts  in  human  consciousness 
are  parallel  facts,  there  is  a  profound  difference  between  them  ; 
and  to  the  nature  and  bearing  of  this  difference  very  careful 
attention  must  be  paid. 

We  have  seen  in  regard  to  all  living  things  what  the  relation 
is  between  the  physical  powers  which  they  possess  and  the 
ability  which  they  have  to  use  them.  It  is  a  relation  of  close 
and  perfect  correspondence.  Everything  requisite  to  be  done 
for  the  unfolding  and  upholding  of  their  life  they  have  impulses 
universally  disposing  them  to  do.  and  faculties  fully  enabling 
them  to  accomplish.  We  have  seen  that  in  the  case  of  some 
animals  this  correspondence  is  already  perfect  from  the  infancy 
of  the  creature,  and  that  even  in  the  case  of  those  which  are 
born  comparatively  helpless,  there  is  always  given  to  them  just 
so  much  of  impulse  and  of  power  as  is  requisite  for  the  attain- 


l88  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

ment  of  their  own  maturity.  It  may  be  nothing  more  than  the 
mere  impulse  and  power  of  opening  the  mouth  for  food,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  chicks  of  many  Birds ;  or  it  may  be  the  much 
more  active  impulse  and  the  much  more  complicated  power  by 
which  the  young  Mammalia  seek  and  secure  their  nourishment; 
or  it  may  be  such  wonderful  special  instincts  as  that  by  which 
the  newly  hatched  Cuckoo,  although  blind  and  otherwise  help- 
less, is  yet  enabled  to  expel  its  rivals  from  the  nest,  and  thus 
secure  that  undivided  supply  of  food  without  which  it  could 
not  survive.  But  whatever  the  impulse  or  the  power  may  be, 
it  is  always  just  enough  for  the  work  which  is  to  be  done.  We 
have  seen,  too,  that  the  amount  of  prevision  which  is  involved 
in  those  instinctive  dispositions  and  actions  of  animals  is  often 
greatest  in  those  which  are  low  in  the  scale  of  life,  so  that  the 
results  for  which  they  work,  and  which  they  do  actually  attain, 
must  be  completely  out  of  sight  to  them.  In  the  wonderful 
metamorphoses  of  Insect  Life,  the  imperfect  creature  is  guided 
with  certainty  to  the  choice  and  enjoyment  of  the  conditions 
which  are  necessary  to  its  own  development ;  and  when  the 
time  comes  it  selects  the  position,  and  constructs  a  cell  in 
which  its  own  mysterious  transformations  are  accomplished. 

All  this  is  in  conformity  with  an  absolute  and  universal  Law 
in  virtue  of  which  there  is  established  a  perfect  unity  between 
these  three  things  : — first,  the  physical  powers  and  structure  of 
all  living  creatures  ;  secondly,  those  dispositions  and  instinctive 
appetites  which  are  seated  in  that  structure  to  impel  and  guide 
its  powers ;  and  thirdly,  the  external  conditions  in  which  the 
creature's  life  is  passed,  and  in  which  its  faculties  find  an  ap- 
propriate field  of  exercise. 

If  Man  has  any  place  in  the  Unity  of  Nature,  this  law  must 
prevail  with  him.  There  must  be  the  same  correspondence  be- 
tween his  powers  and  the  instincts  which  incite  and  direct  him 
in  their  use.  Accordingly  it  is  in  this  law  that  we  find  the  ex- 
planation and  the  meaning  of  his  Sense  of  Ignorance.  For 
without  a  sense  of  ignorance  there  could  be  no  desire  of  knowl- 
edge, and  without  his  desire  of  knowledge  Man  would  not  be 
Man.  His  whole  place  in  Nature  depends  upon  it.  His  curi- 
osity, and  his  wonder,  and  his  admiration,  and  his  awe — these 
are  all  but  the  adjuncts  and  subsidiary  allies  of  that  supreme 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.          189 

affection  which  incites  him  to  inquire  and  know.  Nor  is  this 
desire  capable  of  being  resolved  into  his  tendency  to  seek  for 
an  increased  command  over  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of 
life.  It  is  wholly  independent  of  that  kind  of  value  which  con- 
sists in  the  physical  utility  of  things.  The  application  of  knowl- 
edge comes  after  the  acquisition  of  it,  and  is  not  the  only,  or 
even  the  most  powerful,  inducement  to  its  pursuit.  The  real 
incitement  is  an  innate  appetite  of  the  Mind — conscious  in  vari- 
ous degrees  of  the  mystery,  and  of  the  beauty,  and  of  the  maj- 
esty of  the  System  in  which  it  lives  and  moves ;  conscious,  too, 
that  its  own  relations  to  that  System  are  but  dimly  seen  and 
very  imperfectly  understood.  In  a  former  chapter  we  have 
seen  that  this  appetite  of  knowledge  is  never  satisfied,  even  by 
the  highest  and  most  successful  exertion  of  those  faculties  which 
are,  nevertheless,  our  only  instruments  of  research.  We  have 
seen,  too,  what  is  the  meaning  and  significance  of  that  great 
Reserve  of  Power  which  must  exist  within  us,  seeing  that  it  re- 
mains unexhausted  and  inexhaustible  by  the  proudest  successes 
of  discovery.  In  this  sense  it  is  literally  true  that  the  eye  is 
not  satisfied  with  seeing,  nor  the  ear  filled  with  hearing.  Every 
new  advance  has  its  new  horizon.  Every  answered  question 
brings  into  view  another  question  unanswered,  and  perhaps  un- 
answerable, lying  close  behind  it.  And  so  we  come  to  see  that 
this  Sense  of  Ignorance  is  not  only  part  of  our  nature,  but  one 
of  its  highest  parts — necessary  to  its  development,  and  indica- 
tive of  those  unknown  and  indefinite  prospects  of  attainment 
which  are  at  once  the  glory  and  the  burden  of  Humanity. 

It  is  impossible  to  mistake,  then,  the  place  which  is  occupied 
among  the  Unities  of  Nature  by  that  Sense  of  Ignorance  which 
is  universal  among  men.  It  belongs  to  the  number  of  those 
primary  mental  conditions  which  impel  all  living  things  to  do 
that  which  it  is  their  special  work  to  do,  and  in  the  doing  of 
which  the  highest  law  of  their  Being  is  fulfilled.  In  the  case  of 
the  lower  animals,  this  law,  as  to  the  part  they  have  to  play  and 
the  ends  they  have  to  serve  in  the  economy  of  the  world,  is 
simple,  definite,  and  always  perfectly  attained.  No  advance  is 
with  them  possible,  no  capacity  of  improvement,  no  dormant  or 
undeveloped  powers  leading  up  to  wider  and  wider  spheres  oC 
action.  With  Man,  on  the  contrary,  the  law  of  his  Being  is  a 


19°  THE    UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

law  which  demands  progress,  which  endows  him  with  faculties 
enabling  him  to  make  it,  and  fills  him  with  aspirations  which 
cause  him  to  desire  it.  Among  the  lowest  Savages  there  is 
some  curiosity  and  some  sense  of  wonder,  else  even  the  rude 
inventions  they  have  achieved  would  never  have  been  made, 
and  their  degraded  superstitions  would  not  have  kept  their  hold. 
Man's  Sense  of  Ignorance  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  his  gifts,  for 
it  is  the  secret  of  his  wish  to  know.  The  whole  structure  and 
the  whole  furniture  of  his  Mind  is  adapted  to  this  condition. 
The  highest  law  of  his  Being  is  to  advance  in  wisdom  and 
knowledge  :  and  his  sense  of  the  Presence  and  of  the  Power  of 
things  which  he  can  only  partially  understand,  is  an  abiding 
witness  of  this  law,  and  an  abiding  incentive  to  its  fulfil- 
ment. 

In  all  these  aspects  there  is  an  absolute  contrast  between 
our  Sense  of  Limitation  in  respect  to  intellectual  power  (or 
knowledge)  and  our  Sense  of  Unworthiness  in  respect  to  moral 
character.  It  is  not  of  ignorance,  but  of  knowledge,  that  we 
are  conscious  here, — even  the  knowledge  of  the  distinction  be- 
tween Good  and  Evil,  and  of  that  special  Sense  which  in  our 
nature  is  associated  with  it,  namely,  the  Sense  of  moral  Obliga- 
tion. Now  it  is  a  universal  fact  of  consciousness  as  regards 
ourselves,  and  of  observation  in  regard  to  others,  that,  knowing 
evil  to  be  evil,  men  are  nevertheless  prone  to  do  it,  and  that, 
having  this  sense  of  moral  Obligation,  they  are  nevertheless 
prone  to  disobey  it.  This  fact  is  entirely  independent  of  the 
particular  standard  by  which  men  in  different  stages  of  soci- 
ety have  judged  certain  things  to  be  good  and  other  things  to 
be  evil.  It  is  entirely  independent  of  the  infinite  variety  of 
rules  according  to  which  they  recognize  the  doing  of  particular 
acts,  and  the  abstention  from  other  acts,  to  be  obligatory 
upon  them.  Under  every  variety  of  circumstance  in  regard  to 
these  rules,  under  every  diversity  of  Custom,  of  Law,  or  of  Re- 
ligion by  which  they  are  established,  the  general  fact  remains 
the  same — that  what  men  themselves  recognize  as  duty  they 
continually  disobey,  and  what  according  to  their  own  standard 
they  acknowledge  to  be  wrong  they  continually  do. 

There  is  unquestionably  much  difficulty  in  finding  any  place 
for  this  fact  among  the  Unities  of  Nature,  It  falls  therefore  in 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         191 

the  way  of  this  inquiry  to  investigate  how  this  difficulty  arises, 
and  wherein  it  consists. 

And  here  we  at  once  encounter  those  old  fundamental  ques- 
tions on  the  nature,  the  origin,  and  the  authority  of  the  Moral 
Sense  which  have  exercised  the  human  mind  for  more  than  two 
thousand  years ;  and  on  which  an  eminent  writer  of  our  own 
time  has  said  that  no  sensible  progress  has  been  made.  This 
result  may  well  suggest  that  the  direction  which  inquiry  has 
taken  is  a  direction  in  which  progress  is  impossible.  If  men 
will  try  to  analyze  something  which  is  incapable  of  analysis,  a 
perpetual  consciousness  of  abortive  effort  will  be  their  only  and 
their  inevitable  reward. 

For  just  as  in  the  physical  world  there  are  bodies  or  sub- 
stances which  are  (to  us)  elementary,  so  in  the  spiritual  world 
there  are  perceptions,  feelings,  or  emotions,  which  are  equally 
elementary — that  is  to  say,  which  resist  all  attempts  to  resolve 
them  into  a  combination  of  other  and  simpler  affections  of  the 
mind.  And  of  this  kind  is  the  idea,  or  the  conception,  or  the 
sentiment  of  Obligation.  That  which  we  mean  when  we  say, 
"  I  ought,"  is  a  meaning  which  is  incapable  of  reduction.  It 
is  a  meaning  which  enters  as  an  element  into  many  other  con- 
ceptions, and  into  the  import  of  many  other  forms  of  expres- 
sion, but  it  is  itself  uncompounded.  All  attempts  to  explain  it 
do  one  or  other  of  these  two  things — either  they  assume  and 
include  the  idea  of  Obligation  in  the  very  circumlocutions  by 
which  they  profess  to  explain  its  origin  ;  or  else  they  build  up 
a  structure  which,  when  completed,  remains  as  destitute  of  the 
idea  of  Obligation  as  the  separate  materials  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed. In  the  one  case,  they  first  put  in  the  gold,  and  then 
they  think  that  by  some  alchemy  they  have  made  it ;  in  the 
other  case,  they  do  not  indeed  first  put  in  the  gold,  but  neither 
in  the  end  do  they  ever  get  it.  No  combination  of  other  things 
will  give  the  idea  of  Obligation,  unless  with  and  among  these 
things  there  is  some  concealed  or  unconscious  admission  of 
itself.  But  in  this,  as  in  other  cases  with  which  we  have  al- 
ready dealt,  the  ambiguities  of  language  afford  an  easy  means 
or  an  abundant  source  of  self-deception.  One  common  phrase 
is  enough  to  serve  the  purpose — the  "  Association  of  Ideas." 
Under  this  vague  and  indefinite  form  of  words  all  mental  oper^ 


192  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE, 

ations  and  all  mental  affections  may  be  classed.  Conse- 
quently those  which  are  elementary  may  be  included,  without 
being  expressly  named.  This  is  one  way  of  putting  in  the 
gold  and  then  of  pretending  to  find  it  as  a  result.  Take  one 
of  the  simplest  cases  in  which  the  idea  of  Obligation  arises, 
even  in  the  rudest  minds — namely,  the  case  of  gratitude  to 
those  who  have  done  us  good.  Beyond  all  question,  this  sim- 
ple form  of  the  Sense  of  Obligation  is  one  which  involves  the 
association  of  many  ideas.  It  involves  the  idea  of  Self  as  a 
moral  agent  and  the  recipient  of  good.  It  involves  the  idea  of 
other  human  beings,  as  likewise  moral  agents,  and  as  related 
to  us  by  a  common  nature,  as  well  as,  perhaps,  by  still  more 
special  ties.  It  involves  the  idea  of  things  good  for  them,  and 
of  our  having  power  to  confer  these  things  upon  them.  All 
these  ideas  are  "  associated  "  in  the  sense  of  gratitude  towards 
those  who  have  conferred  upon  us  any  kind  of  favor.  But  the 
mere  word  "  association  "  throws  no  light  whatever  upon  the 
nature  of  the  connection.  "  Association  "  means  nothing  but 
grouping  or  contiguity  of  any  kind.  It  may  be  the  grouping  of 
mere  accident — the  associations  of  things  which  happen  to  lie 
together,  but  which  have  no  other  likeness,  relation,  or  connec- 
tion. But  this,  obviously,  is  not  the  kind  of  association  which 
connects  together  the  different  ideas  which  are  involved  in  the 
conception  of  gratitude  to  those  who  have  done  us  good.  What 
then  is  the  associating  tie  ?  What  is  the  link  which  binds  them 
together,  and  constitutes  the  particular  kind  or  principle  of  as- 
sociation ?  It  is  the  Sense  of  Obligation.  The  associating  or 
grouping  power  lies  in  this  Sense.  It  is  the  centre  round  which 
the  other  perceptions  aggregate.  It  is  the  seat  of  that  force 
which  holds  them  together,  which  keeps  them  in  a  definite  and 
fixed  relation,  and  gives  its  mental  character  to  the  combina- 
tion as  a  whole. 

If  we  examine  closely  the  language  of  those  who  have  at- 
tempted to  analyze  the  Moral  Sense,  or,  in  other  words,  the 
Sense  of  Obligation,  we  shall  always  detect  the  same  fallacy — 
namely,  the  use  of  words  so  vague  that  under  cover  of  them 
the  idea  of  Obligation  is  assumed  as  the  explanation  of  itself. 
Sometimes  this  fallacy  is  so  transparent  in  the  very  forms  of  ex- 
pression which  are  used,  that  we- wonder  how  men  of  even  or- 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         193 

dinary  intelligence,  far  more  men  of  the  highest  intellectual 
power,  can  have  failed  to  see  and  feel  the  confusion  of  their 
thoughts.  Thus,  for  example,  we  find  Mr.  Grote  expressing 
himself  as  follows: — "This  idea  of  the  judgment  of  others 
upon  our  conduct  and  feeling  as  agents,  or  the  idea  of  our  own 
judgment  as  spectators  in  concurrence  with  others  upon  our 
own  conduct  as  agents,  is  the  main  basis  of  what  is  properly 
called  Ethical  sentiment.''  *  In  this  passage  the  word  "judg- 
ment "  can  only  mean  moral  judgment,  which  is  an  exercise  of 
the  Moral  Sense  ;  and  this  exercise  is  gravely  represented  as 
the  "  basis  "  of  itself. 

Two  things,  however,  ought  to  be  carefully  considered  and 
remembered  in  respect  to  this  elementary  character  of  the 
Moral  Sense.  The  first  is,  that  we  must  clearly  define  to  our- 
selves what  the  idea  is  of  which,  and  of  which  alone,  we  can 
affirm  that  it  is  elementary  ;  and  secondly,  that  we  must  define 
to  ourselves  as  clearly,  if  it  be  possible  to  do  so,  in  what  sense 
it  is  that  any  Faculty  whatever  of  the  Mind  can  really  be  con- 
templated as  separable  from,  or  as  uncombined  with,  others. 

As  regards  the  first  of  these  two  things  to  be  defined,  namely, 
the  idea  which  we  affirm  to  be  simple  or  elementary,  it  must 
be  clearly  understood  that  this  elementary  character,  this  in- 
capability of  being  reduced  by  analysis,  belongs  to  the  bare 
sense  or  feeling  of  Obligation,  and  not  at  all,  or  not  generally, 
to  the  processes  of  thought  by  which  that  feeling  may  be 
guided  in  its  exercise.  This  distinction  is  immense  and  ob- 
vious. The  Sense  of  right  and  of  wrong  is  one  thing  ;  the  way 
in  which  we  come  to  attach  the  idea  of  right  or  wrong  to  the 
doing  of  certain  acts,  or  to  the  abstention  from  certain  other 
acts,  is  another  and  a  very  different  thing.  This  is  a  distinc- 
tion which  applies  equally  to  many  other  simple  or  elementary 
affections  of  the  Mind.  The  liking  or  disliking  of  certain 
tastes  or  affections  of  the  palate  is  universal  and  elementary. 
But  the  particular  tastes  which  are  the  objects  of  liking  or  of 
aversion  are  for  the  most  part  determined  by  habits  and  edu- 
cation. There  may  be  tastes  which  all  men  are  so  constituted 
as  necessarily  to  feel  disgusting  ;  and  in  like  manner  there  may 
be  certain  acts  which  all  men  everywhere  must  feel  to  be  con- 

"  Fragments  on  Ethical  Subjects,"  pp.  9,  10. 
II 


IQ4  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

trary  to  their  Sense  of  Obligation.  Indeed  we  shall  see  good 
reason  to  believe  that  this  not  only  may  be  so,  but  must  be  so. 
But  this  is  a  separate  subject  of  inquiry.  The  distinction  in 
principle  is  manifest  between  the  Sense  itself  and  the  laws  bv 
which  its  particular  applications  are  determined. 

The  second  of  the  two  things  to  be  defined — namely,  the 
sense  in  which  any  Faculty  whatever  of  the  Mind  can  really  be 
regarded  singly,  or  as  uncombined  with  others — is  a  matter  so 
important  that  we  must  stop  to  consider  it  with  greater  care. 

The  analogy  is  not  complete,  but  only  partial,  between  the 
analysis  of  Mind  and  the  analysis  of  Matter.  In  the  analysis 
of  Matter  we  reach  elements  which  can  be  wholly  separated 
from  each  other,  so  that  each  of  them  can  exist  and  can  be 
handled  by  itself.  In  the  analysis  of  Mind  we  are  dealing  with 
one  Organic  Whole  ;  and  the  operation  by  which  we  break  it 
up  into  separate  faculties  or  powers  is  an  operation  purely 
ideal,  since  there  is  not  one  of  these  faculties  which  can  exist 
alone,  or  which  can  exert  its  special  functions  without  the  help 
of  others.  When  we  speak,  therefore,  of  a  Moral  Sense  or  of 
Conscience,  we  do  not  sp^ak  of  it  as  a  separate  entity  any 
more  than  when  we  speak  of  Reason  or  of  Imagination. 
Strictly  speaking,  no  Faculty  of  the  Mind  is  elementary  in  the 
same  sense  in  which  the  elements  of  Matter'  are  (supposed  to 
be)  absolutely  simple  or  uncombined.  Perhaps  there  is  no 
Faculty  of  the  Mind  which  presents  itself  so  distinctly  and  is 
so  easily  separable  from  others  as  the  Faculty  of  Memory. 
And  yet  Memory  cannot  always  reproduce  its  treasures  without 
an  effort  of  the  Will,  nor,  sometimes,  without  many  artificial 
expedients  of  Reason  to  help  it  in  retracing  the  old  familiar 
lines.  Neither  is  there  any  Faculty  more  absolutely  necessary 
than  Memory  to  the  working  of  every  other.  Without  Memory 
there  could  not  be  any  Reason,  nor  any  Reflection,  nor  any 
Conscience.  In  this  respect  all  the  higher  Faculties  of  the 
human  Mind  are  much  more  inseparably  blended  and  united  in 
their  operation  than  those  lower  Faculties  which  are  connected 
with  bodily  sensation.  These  lower  Faculties  are  indeed  also 
parts  of  one  Whole,  are  connected  with  a  common  centre,  and 
can  all  be  paralyzed  when  that  centre  is  affected.  But  in  their 
ordinary  activities  their  spheres  of  action  seem  widely  differ- 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         195 

ent,  ana  each  of  them  can  be,  and  often  is,  seen  in  apparently 
solitary  and  independent  action.  Sight  and  taste  and  touch 
and  hearing  are  all  very  different  from  each  other — so  separate 
indeed  that  the  language  of  the  one  can  hardly  be  translated 
into  the  language  of  the  other. 

But  when  from  these  lower  Faculties,  which  are  connected 
with  separate  and  visible  Organs  of  the  Body,  and  which  we 
possess  in  common  with  the  Brutes,  we  ascend  to  the  great 
central  group  of  higher  and  more  spiritual  Faculties  which  are 
peculiar  to  Man,  we  soon  find  that  their  unity  is  more  absolute, 
and  their  interdependence  more  visibly  complete.  Ideally  we 
can  distinguish  them,  and  we  can  range  them  in  an  ascending 
order.  We  can  separate  between  different  elements  and  dif- 
ferent processes  of  thought,  and  in  accordance  with  these  dis- 
tinctions we  can  assign  to  each  of  them  a  separate  Faculty  of 
the  Mind.  We  think  of  these  separate  Faculties  as  being  each 
specially  apprehensive  of  one  kind  of  idea,  or  specially  con- 
ducting one  kind  of  operation.  Thus  the  reasoning  Faculty 
works  out  the  process  of  logical  sequence,  and  apprehends  one 
truth  as  the  necessary  consequence  of  another.  Thus  the 
Faculty  of  Reflection  passes  in  review  the  previous  apprehen- 
sions of  the  Intellect,  or  the  fleeting  suggestions  of  Memory 
and  of  Desire,  looks  at  them  in  different  aspects,  and  submits 
them  now  to  the  tests  of  reasoning,  and  now  to  the  apprecia^ 
tions  of  the  Moral  Sense.  Thus,  again,  the  supreme  Faculty 
of  Will  determines  the  subject  of  investigation,  or  the  direction 
of  thought,  or  the  course  of  conduct.  But  although  all  these 
Faculties  may  be,  and  indeed  must  sometimes  be,  conceived 
and  regarded  as  separate,  they  all  more  or  less  involve  each 
other ;  and  in  the  great  hierarchy  of  powers,  the  highest  and 
noblest  seem  always  to  be  built  upon  the  foundations  of  those 
which  stand  below.  Memory  is  the  indispensable  servant  or 
them  all.  Reflection  is  ever  turning  the  Mind  inward  on  itself. 
The  logical  Faculty  is  ever  rushing  to  its  own  conclusions  as 
necessary  consequences  of  the  elementary  axioms  from  which 
it  starts,  and  which  are  to  it  the  objects  of  direct  and  intuitive 
apprehension.  The  Moral  Sense  is  ever  passing  its  judgments 
upon  the  conduct  of  others  and  of  ourselves ;  whilst  the  Will  is 
ever  present  to  set  each  and  all  to  their  proper  work.  And  the 


196  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

proper  work  of  every  Faculty  is  to  see  some  special  kind  of  re- 
lation or  some  special  quality  in  things  which  other  Faculties 
have  not  been  formed  to  see.  But  although  these  qualities  in 
things  are  in  themselves  separate  and  distinct,  it  does  not  at 
all  follow  that  the  separate  Organs  of  the  Mind,  by  which  they 
are  severally  apprehended,  can  ever  work  without  each  other's 
help.  The  sense  of  logical  necessity  is  clearly  different  from 
the  sense  of  moral  Obligation.  But  yet  as  Reason  cannot  work 
without  the  help  of  Memory,  so  neither  can  the  Moral  Sense 
work  without  the  help  of  Reason.  And  the  elements  which 
Reason  has  to  work  on  in  presenting  different  actions  to  the 
judgment  of  the  Moral  Sense,  may  be,  and  often  are,  of  very 
great  variety.  It  is  these  elements,  many  and  various  in  their 
character,  and  contributed  through  the  help  and  concurrence  of 
many  different  Faculties  of  the  Mind,  that  men  are  really  dis- 
tinguishing and  dissecting  when  they  think  they  are  analyzing 
the  Moral  Sense  itself.  What  they  do  analyze  with  more  or 
less  success  is  not  the  Moral  Sense,  but  the  conditions  under 
which  that  Sense  comes  to  attach  its  special  judgments  of  ap- 
proval or  of  condemnation  to  particular  acts  or  to  particular 
motives. 

And  this  analysis  of  the  conditions  under  which  the  Moral 
Sense  performs  its  work,  although  it  is  not  the  kind  of  analysis 
which  it  often  pretends  to  be,  is  nevertheless  in  the  highest 
degree  important,  for  although  the  Sense  of  Obligation,  or,  as  it 
is  usually  called,  the  Moral  Sense,  may  be  in  itself  simple,  ele- 
mentary, and  incapable  of  reduction,  it  is  quite  possible  to  reach 
conclusions  of  the  most  vital  interest  concerning  its  nature  and 
its  functions  by  examining  the  circumstances  which  do  actually 
determine  its  exercise,  especially  those  circumstances  which  are 
necessary  and  universal  facts  in  the  experience  of  Mankind. 

There  is,  in  the  first  place,  one  question  respecting  the  Moral 
Sense  which  meets  us  at  the  threshold  of  every  inquiry  respect- 
ing it,  and  to  which  a  clear  and  definite  answer  can  be  given. 
This  question  is — What  is  the  subject-matter  of  the  Moral 
Sense  ?  or,  in  other  words,  what  is  the  kind  of  thing  of  which 
alone  it  takes,  any  cognizance,  and  in  which  alone  it  recognizes 
the  qualities  of  right  and  wrong? 

To  this  fundamental  question  one  answer,  and  one  answer 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         197 

only,  can  be  given.  The  things,  and  the  only  things,  of  which 
the  Moral  Sense  takes  cognizance  are  the  actions  of  Man.  It 
can  take  no  cognizance  of  the  actions  of  machines,  nor  of  the 
actions  of  the  inanimate  Forces  of  Nature,  nor  of  the  actions  of 
Beasts,  except  in  so  far  as  a  few  of  these  may  be  supposed  to 
possess  in  a  low  and  elementary  degree  some  of  the  character- 
istic powers  of  Man.  Human  conduct  is  the  only  subject-mat- 
ter in  respect  of  which  the  perceptions  of  the  Moral  Sense  arise. 
They  are  perceptions  of  the  Mind  which  have  no  relation  to 
anything  whatever  except  to  the  activities  of  another  Mind  con- 
stituted like  itself.  For,  as  no  moral  judgment  can  be  formed, 
and  no  moral  perception  can  be  felt,  except  by  a  moral  agent, 
so  neither  can  it  be  formed  in  respect  to  the  conduct  of  any 
other  agent  which  has  not,  or  is  not  assumed  to  have,  a  nature 
like  our  own — moral,  rational,  and  free. 

And  this  last  condition — freedom — which  is  an  essential  one 
to  the  very  idea  of  an  Agency  having  any  moral  character,  will 
carry  us  a  long  way  on  towards  a  farther  definition  of  the  sub- 
ject-matter on  which  the  Moral  Sense  is  exercised.  It  is,  as  we 
have  seen,  human  conduct.  But  it  is  not  human  conduct  in  its 
mere  outward  manifestations,  for  the  only  moral  element  in 
human  conduct  is  its  actuating  motive.  If  any  human  action 
is  determined  not  by  any  motive  whatever,  but  simply  by  ex- 
ternal or  physical  compulsion,  then  no  moral  element  is  present 
at  all,  and  no  perception  of  the  Moral  Sense  can  arise  respect- 
ing it.  Freedom,  therefore,  in  the  sense  of  exemption  from 
such  compulsion,  must  be  assumed  as  a  condition  of  human 
action  absolutely  essential  to  its  possessing  any  moral  character 
whatever.  There  can  be  no  moral  character  in  any  action,  so 
far  as  the  individual  actor  is  concerned,  apart  from  the  meaning 
and  intention  of  the  actor.  The  very  same  deed  may  be  good, 
or,  on  the  contrary,  devilishly  bad,  according  to  the  inspiring 
motive  of  him  who  does  it.  The  giving  of  a  cup  of  cold  water 
to  assuage  suffering,  and  the  giving  it  to  prolong  life  in  order 
that  greater  suffering  may  be  endured,  are  the  same  outward 
deeds,  but  are  exactly  opposite  in  moral  character.  In  like 
manner,  the  killing  of  a  man  in  battle,  and  the  killing  of  a  man 
for  robbery  or  revenge,  are  the  same  actions,  but  the  one  may 


198  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

be  often  right,  whilst  the  other  must  be  always  wrong,  because 
of  the  different  motives  which  incite  the  deed. 

Illustrations  of  the  same  general  truth  might  be  given  as  in- 
finite in  variety  as  the  varying  circumstances  and  conditions  of 
human  conduct.  It  is  a  truth  perfectly  consistent  with  the 
doctrine  of  an  Independent  Morality.  Every  action  of  a  vol- 
untary agent  has,  and  must  have,  its  own  moral  character,  and 
yet  this  character  may  be  separate  and  apart  from  its  relation 
to  the  responsibility  of  the  individual  man  who  does  it.  That 
is  to  say,  every  act  must  be  either  permitted,  or  forbidden,  or 
enjoined,  by  legitimate  Authority,  although  the  man  who  does 
it  may  be  ignorant  of  the  Authority  or  of  its  commands.  And 
the  same  proposition  holds  good  if  we  look  upon  the  ultimate 
standard  of  morality  from  the  Utilitarian  point  of  view.  Every 
act  must  have  its  own  relation  to  the  future.  Every  act  must 
be  either  innocent,  or  beneficent,  or  hurtful  in  its  ultimate 
tendencies  and  results.  Or,  if  we  like  to  put  it  in  another 
form,  every  act  must  be  according  to  the  harmony  of  Nature  or 
at  variance  with  that  harmony,  and  therefore  an  element  of 
disorder  and  disturbance.  In  all  these  senses,  therefore,  we 
speak,  and  we  are  right  in  speaking,  of  actions  as  in  them- 
selves good  or  bad,  because  we  so  speak  of  them  according  to 
our  own  knowledge  of  the  relation  in  which  they  stand  to  those 
great  axioms  of  morality,  which  are  facts  and  not  mere  assump- 
tions or  even  mere  beliefs.  But  we  are  quite  able  to  separate 
this  judgment  of  the  act  from  the  judgment  which  can  justly  be 
applied  to  the  individual  agent.  As  regards  him,  the  act  is 
right  or  wrong,  not  according  to  our  knowledge,  but  according 
to  his  own0  And  this  great  distinction  is  universally  recognized 
in  the  language  and  (however  unconsciously)  in  the  thoughts  of 
men.  It  is  sanctioned,  moreover,  by  Supreme  Authority.  The 
most  solemn  prayer  ever  uttered  upon  Earth  was  a  prayer  for 
the  forgiveness  of  an  act  of  the  most  enormous  wickedness,  and 
the  ground  of  the  petition  was  specially  declared  to  be  that 
those  who  committed  it  "  knew  not  what  they  did."  The  same 
principle  which  avails  to  diminish  blame,  avails  also  to  dimin- 
ish or  to  extinguish  merit.  We  may  justly  say  of  many  actions 
that  they  are  good  in  themselves,  assuming,  as  we  naturally 
do,  that  those  who  do  such  actions  do  them  under  the  influence 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         199 

of  the  appropriate  motive.  But  if  this  assumption  fails  in  any 
particular  case,  we  cannot  and  we  do  not  credit  the  actor  with 
the  goodness  of  his  deed.  If  he  has  done  a  thing  which  in  it- 
self is  good  in  order  to  compass  an  evil  end,  then,  so  far  as  he 
is  concerned,  the  deed  is  not  good,  but  bad.  It  may  indeed  be 
worse  in  moral  character  than  many  other  kinds  of  evil  deeds, 
and  this  just  because  of  the  goodness  usually  attaching  to 
it.  For  this  goodness  may  very  probably  involve  the  double 
guilt  of  some  special  treachery,  or  some  special  hypocrisy ;  and 
both  treachery  and  hypocrisy  are  in  the  highest  degree  im- 
moral. It  is  clear  that  no  action,  however  apparerltry  benevo- 
lent, if  done  from  some  selfish  or  cruel  motive,  can  be  a  good 
or  a  moral  action. 

It  may  seem,  however,  as  if  the  converse  of  this  proposition 
cannot  be  laid  down  as  broadly  and  as  decidedly.  There  are 
deeds  of  cruelty  in  abundance  which  have  been  done,  ostensi- 
bly at  least,  and  sometimes,  perhaps,  really,  from  motives  com- 
paratively good,  and  yet  from  which  an  enlightened  Moral 
Sense  can  never  detach  the  character  of  wickedness  and  wrong. 
These  may  seem  to  be  cases  in  which  the  motive  does  not 
determine  the  moral  character  of  the  action,  and  in  which  our 
Moral  Sense  persists  in  condemning  the  thing  done  in  spite  of 
the  motive.  But  if  we  examine  closely  the  grounds  on  which 
we  pass  judgment  in  such  cases,  we  shall  not,  I  think,  find 
them  exceptions  to  the  rule  or  law  that  the  purpose  or  intention 
of  a  free  and  voluntary  agent  is  the  only  thing  in  which  any 
moral  goodness  can  exist,  or  to  which  any  moral  judgment  can 
be  applied.  In  the  first  place,  we  may  justly  think  that  the 
actors  in  such  deeds  are  to  a  large  extent  themselves  responsi- 
ble for  the  failure  in  knowledge,  and  for  the  defective  Moral 
Sense  which  blind  them  to  the  evil  of  their  conduct,  and  which 
lead  them  to  a  wrong  application  of  some  motive  which  may  in 
itself  be  good.  And  in  the  second  place,  we  may  have  a  just 
misgiving  as  to  the  singleness  and  purity  of  the  alleged  purpose 
which  is  good.  We  know  that  the  motives  of  men  are  so  various 
and  so  mixed,  that  they  are  not  always  themselves  conscious  of 
that  motive  which  really  prevails,  and  we  may  have  often  good 
reasons  for  our  convictions  that  bad  motives  unavowed  have 
really  determined  conduct  for  which  good  motives  only  have 


200  THE  UNITY  OF   NATURE. 

been  alleged.  Thus,  in  the  case  of  religious  persecution,  we 
may  be  sure  that  the  lust  of  power,  and  the  passion  of  resent- 
ment against  those  who  resist  its  ungovernable  desires,  have 
very  often  been  the  impelling  motive,  where  nothing  but  the 
love  of  truth  has  been  acknowledged.  And  this  at  least  may 
be  said,  that  in  the  universal  judgment  of  Mankind,  actions 
which  they  regard  as  wrong  have  not  the  whole  of  that  wrong- 
fulness  charged  against  the  doers  of  them,  in  proportion  as  we 
really  believe  the  agents  to  have  been  guided  purely  and  hon- 
estly by  their  own  sense  of  Moral  Obligation. 

On  the  whole,  then,  we  can  determine  or  define  with  great 
clearness  and  precision  the  field  within  which  the  Moral  Sense 
can  alone  find  the  possibilities  of  exercise, — and  that  field  is 
the  conduct  of  men  ; — by  which  is  meant  not  their  actions  only, 
but  the  purpose,  motive,  or  intention  by  which  the  doing  of 
these  actions  is  determined.  This  conclusion,  resting  on  the 
firm  ground  of  observation  and  experience,  is  truthfully  ex- 
pressed in  the  well-known  lines  of  Burns:  — 

"  The  heart's  aye  the  part  aye 
Which  makes  us  right  or  wrang." 

And  now  it  is  possible  to  approach  more  closely  to  the  great 
central  question  of  all  ethical  inquiry  : — Are  there  any  motives 
which  all  men  under  all  circumstances  recognize  as  good  ?  Are 
there  any  other  motives  which,  on  the  contrary,  all  men  under 
all  circumstances  recognize  as  evil?  Are  there  any  funda- 
mental perceptions  of  the  Moral  Sense  upon  which  the  stand- 
ard of  right  and  wrong  is  planted  at  the  first,  and  round  which 
it  gathers  to  itself,  by  the  help  of  every  Faculty  through  which 
the  Mind  can  work,  higher  and  higher  conceptions  of  the  course 
of  duty  ? 

In  dealing  with  this  question,  it  is  a  comfort  to  remember 
that  we  are  in  possession  of  analogies  deeply  seated  in  the 
constitution  and  in  the  course  of  Nature.  It  is  quite  possible 
to  assign  to  Intuition  or  to  Instinct  the  place  and  rank  which 
really  belongs  to  it,  and  to  assign  also  to  what  is  called  Expe- 
rience the  functions  which  are  unquestionably  its  own.  There 
is  no  Sense  or  Faculty  of  the  Mind  which  does  not  gain  by  ed- 
ucation—not one  which  is  independent  of  those  processes  of 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         2OI 

development  which  result  from  its  contact  with  the  external 
world.  But  neither  is  there  any  Sense  or  Faculty  of  the  Mind 
which  starts  unfurnished  with  some  one  or  more  of  those  intui- 
tive perceptions  with  which  all  education  and  all  development 
must  begin.  Just  as  every  exercise  of  Reason  must  be  founded 
on  certain  axioms  which  are  self-evident  to  the  logical  Faculty, 
so  all  other  exercises  of  the  Mind  must  start  from  the  direct 
perception  of  some  rudimentary  truths.  It  would  be  strange 
indeed  if  the  moral  Faculty  were  any  exception  to  this  funda- 
mental law.  This  Faculty  in  its  higher  conditions,  such  as  we 
see  it  in  the  best  men  in  the  most  highly  civilized  communities, 
may  stand  at  an  incalculable  distance  from  its  earliest  and  sim- 
plest condition,  and  still  more  from  its  lowest  condition,  such 
as  we  see  it  in  the  most  degraded  races  of  Mankind.  But  this 
distance  has  been  reached  from  some  starting-point,  and  at  that 
starting-point  there  must  have  been  some  simple  acts  or  dispo- 
sitions to  which  the  sense  of  Obligation  was  instinctively  at- 
tached. And  beyond  all  question  this  is  the  fact.  All  men  do 
instinctively  know  what  gives  pleasure  to  themselves,  and  there- 
fore also  what  gives  pleasure  to  other  men.  Moreover,  to  a 
very  large  extent,  the  things  which  give  them  pleasure  are  the 
real  needs  of  life,  and  the  acquisition  or  enjoyment  of  these  is 
not  only  useful  but  essential  to  the  well-being  or  even  to  the 
very  existence  of  the  race.  And  as  Man  is  a  social  animal  by 
nature,  with  social  instincts  at  least  as  innate  as  those  of  the 
Ant  or  the  Beaver  or  the  Bee,  we  may  be  sure  that  there  were 
and  are  born  with  him  all  those  intuitive  perceptions  and  de- 
sires which  are  necessary  to  the  growth  and  unfolding  of  his 
powers. 

And  this  we  know  to  be  the  fact,  not  only  as  a  doctrine 
founded  on  the  unities  of  Nature,  but  as  a  matter  of  universal 
observation  and  experience.  We  know  that  without  the  Moral 
Sense  Man  could  not  fulfil  the  part  which  belongs  to  him  in  tl]e 
world.  It  is  as  necessary  in  the  earliest  stages  of  the  Family 
and  of  the  Tribe,  as  it  is  in  the  latest  developments  of  the  State 
and  of  the  Church.  It  is  an  element  without  which  nothing 
can  be  done — without  which  no  man  could  trust  another,  and, 
indeed,  no  man  could  trust  himself.  There  is  no  bond  of  union 
among  men — even  the  lowest  and  the  worst — which  does  not 


202  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

involve  and  depend  upon  the  Sense  of  Obligation.  There  is  no 
kind  of  brotherhood  or  association  for  any  purpose  which  could 
stand  without  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  therefore,  and  not  at  all 
as  a  matter  of  speculation,  we  know  that  the  Moral  Sense  holds 
a  high  place  as  one  of  the  necessary  conditions  in  the  develop- 
ment of  Man's  nature,  in  the  improvement  of  his  condition,  and 
in  the  attainment  of  that  place  which  may  yet  lie  before  him  in 
the  future  of  the  world. 

There  are  other  sentiments  and  desires  which,  being  as  need- 
ful, are  equally  instinctive.  Thus,  the  desire  of  communicating 
pleasure  to  others  is  one  of  the  instincts  which  is  as  universal 
in  Man  as  the  desire  of  communicating  knowledge.  Both  are 
indeed  branches  of  the  same  stem — offshoots  from  the  same 
root*  The  acquisition  of  knowledge,  to  which  we  are  stimulated 
by  the  instinctive  affections  of  curiosity  and  of  wonder,  is  one 
of  the  greatest  of  human  pleasures,  and  the  desire  we  have  to 
communicate  our  knowledge  to  others  is  the  great  motive-force 
on  which  its  progress  and  accumulation  depend.  The  pleasure 
which  all  men  take,  when  their  dispositions  are  good,  in  shar- 
ing with  others  their  own  enjoyments,  is  another  feature  quite 
as  marked  and  quite  as  innate  in  the  character  of  Man.  And 
if  there  is  any  course  of  action  to  which  we  do  instinctively  at- 
tach the  sentiment  of  moral  approbation,  it  is  that  course  of  ac- 
tion which  assumes  that  our  own  desires,  and  our  own  estimates 
of  good,  are  the  standard  by  which  we  ought  to  judge  of  what 
is  due  to,  and  is  desired  by  others.  The  social  instincts  of  our 
nature  must,  therefore,  naturally  and  intuitively  indicate  benev- 
olence as  a  virtuous,  and  malevolence  as  a  vicious  disposition ; 
and,  again,  our  knowledge  of  what  is  benevolent  and  of  what  is 
malevolent  is  involved  in  our  own  instinctive  sense  of  what  to 
us  is  good,  and  of  what  to  us  is  evil.  It  is  quite  true  that  this 
sense  may  be  comparatively  low  or  high,  and  consequently  that 
the  standard  of  obligation  which  is  founded  upon  it  may  be  el- 
ementary and  nothing  more.  Those  whose  own  desires  are 
few  and  rude,  and  those  whose  estimates  of  good  are  very  lim- 
ited, must  of  course  form  an  estimate  correspondingly  poor  and 
scant  of  what  is  good  for,  and  of  what  is  desired  by,  others. 
But  this  exactly  corresponds  with  the  facts  of  human  nature. 
This  is  precisely  the  variety  in  unity  which  its  phenomena  pre- 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         203 

sent.  There  are  no  men  of  sane  mind  in  whom  the  Moral  Sense 
does  not  exist ;  that  is  to  say,  there  are  no  men  who  do  not  at- 
tach to  some  actions  or  other  the  sentiment  of  approval,  and  to 
some  other  actions  the  opposite  sentiment  of  condemnation. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  selection  of  the  particular  actions  to 
which  these  different  sentiments  are  severally  attached  is  a  se- 
lection immensely  various ;  there  being,  however,  this  one  com- 
mon element  in  all. — that  the  course  of  action  to  which  men  do 
by  instinct  attach  the  feeling  of  moral  Obligation,  is  that  course 
of  action  which  is  animated  by  the  feeling  that  their  own  de- 
sires and  their  own  estimate  of  good  is  the  standard  by  which 
they  must  judge  of  what  is  due  by  them  to  others,  and  by  others 
to  themselves. 

And  here  we  stand  at  the  common  point  of  departure  from 
which  diverge  the  two  great  antagonistic  schools  of  Ethical 
Philosophy.  On  the  one  hand,  in  the  intuitive  and  elementary 
character  which  we  have  assigned  to  the  sentiment  of  Obliga- 
tion, considered  in  itself,  we  have  the  fundamental  position  of 
that  school  which  asserts  an  independent  basis  of  morality ; 
whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  elementary  truths  which  we  have 
assigned  to  the  Moral  Sense  as  its  self-evident  apprehensions, 
we  have  a  rule  which  corresponds,  in  one  aspect  at  least,  to  the 
fundamental  conception  of  the  Utilitarian  school.  For  the  rule  , 
which  connects  the  idea  of  Obligation  with  conduct  tending  to 
the  good  of  others,  as  tested  by  our  own  estimate  of  what  is 
good  for  ourselves,  is  a  rule  which  clearly  brings  the  basis  of 
morality  into  very  close  connection  with  the  practical  results  of 
conduct.  Accordingly,  one  of  the  ablest  modern  advocates  of 
the  Utilitarian  system  has  declared  that  "  in  the  golden  rule  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  we  read  the  complete  spirit  of  the  ethics  of 
Utility.  To  do  as  you  would  be  done  by,  and  to  love  your 
neighbor  as  yourself,  constitute  the  ideal  perfection  of  Utili 
tarian  morals."* 

This  may  well  seem  a  strange  and  almost  a  paradoxical  result 
to  those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  consider  the  Utilitarian 
theory  not  so  much  a  low  standard  of  morals,  as  an  idea  which 
is  devoid  altogether  of  that  element  in  which  the  very  essence 
of  morality  consists.  But  it  is  a  result  due  to  these  two  causes 

*  J.  S.  Mill,  "  Utilitarianism,"  pp.  24,  25. 


204  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

— first,  that  under  the  fire  of  controversy,  Utilitarians  have 
been  obliged  to  import  into  the  meaning  of  their  words  much 
that  does  not  really  belong  to  them  ;  and  secondly,  to  the  fact, 
that  when  this  essential  alteration  has  been  made,  then  the 
theory,  or  rather  the  portion  of  it  which  remains,  does  represent 
one  very  important  aspect  of  a  very  complex  truth. 

It  will  be  well  to  examine  a  little  more  closely  the  different 
ways  in  which  these  two  causes  operate. 

In  the  first  place,  as  regards  the  ambiguities  of  language,  a 
moment's  consideration  will  convince  us  that  the  word  "  utility  " 
has,  in  its  proper  and  primary  signification,  nothing  whatever 
of  the  ethical  meaning  which  is  attached  to  it  in  the  Utilitarian 
theory  of  morals.  In  its  elementary  signification  the  useful  is 
simply  the  serviceable.  It  is  curious  to  observe  that  this  last 
word  has  no  ethical  savor  about  it.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  asso- 
ciated rather  with  the  lower  than  with  the  higher  uses  of  con- 
duct. If  this  be  objected  to  as  preventing  the  two  words  from 
being  really  the  equivalent  of  each  other,  then  at  least  let  it  be 
recognized  that  utility  must  be  divested  of  its  ethical  associa- 
tions before  it  can  be  set  up  as  an  ethical  test.  If  utility  is  first 
assumed  to  be  the  equivalent  of  goodness,  it  becomes  of  course 
a  mere  play  on  words  to  represent  usefulness  as  the  criterion 
of  virtue.  If  we  are  to  conduct  our  analysis  correctly,  we  must 
expel  from  utility  every  adventitious  element  of  meaning. 
The  usefulness  of  a  thing  means  nothing  mere  than  its  condu- 
civeness  to  some  purpose.  But  it  may  be  any  purpose, — morally 
good,  or  morally  bad,  or  morally  indifferent.  The  boot-jack, 
the  thumb-screw,  and  the  rack  are  all  useful  machines  for  the 
purpose  of  producing  torture  on  the  victim,  and  for  the  purpose, 
too,  of  giving  to  the  torturers  that  pleasure  or  satisfaction  which 
wicked  men  find  in  tyranny  or  revenge.  The  words  "good" 
and  "  bad  "  are  themselves  often  used  in  a  secondary  and  de- 
rivative sense,  which,  like  "  useful,"  may  be  destitute  of  any 
ethical  meaning.  A  good  thumb-screw  would  mean  an  imple- 
ment well  adapted  to  produce  the  most  exquisite  pain.  A  good 
torture  may  mean  a  torture  well  calculated  to  gratify  the  savage 
sentiment  of  revenge.  In  like  manner,  although  not  to  the  same 
extent,  the  words  "right"  and  "wrong"  are  often  used  with 
no  ethical  element  of  meaning.  The  right  way  for  a  man  who 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.          205 

wishes  to  commit  suicide  would  be  the  way  to  a  precipice  over 
which  he  desires  to  throw  himself.  But  the  same  way  is  the 
wrong  way  for  him,  if  he  wishes  to  avoid  the  danger  of  falling. 
In  this  way  we  may  speak  of  the  right  way  of  doing  the  most 
wicked  things. 

One  most  eminent  expounder  of  the  Utilitarian  theory  has 
taken  advantage  of  this  common  use  of  the  words  "good  "  and 
"  bad,"  and  of  "  right  "  and  "  wrong,"  to  represent  utility  and 
inutility  to  be  the  essential  idea  of  all  goodness  and  of  all 
badness  respectively.*  Thus  the  unavoidable  ambiguities  of 
speech  are  employed  to  give  a  scientific  aspect  to  the  confound- 
ing and  obliteration  of  the  profoundest  distinctions  which 
exist  in  knowledge.  By  the  double  process  of  expelling  from 
Goodness  the  idea  of  virtue,  and  of  inserting  into  Utility 
the  idea  of  beneficence,  the  fallacies  of  language  become  com- 
plete. Because  subserviency  to  purpose  of  any  kind  is  the 
meaning  of  "  good,"  when  applied  equally  to  an  instrument  of 
torture  and  to  an  instrument  for  the  relief  of  suffering,  there- 
fore, it  is  argued,  the  same  meaning  must  be  the  essential  one 
when  we  speak  of  a  good  man.  And  so  indeed  it  may  be,  if 
we  know  or  assume  beforehand  what  the  highest  purpose  is 
to  which  Man  can  be  made  subservient.  There  is  a  well' 
known  Catechism  of  one  of  the  Reformed  Churches  which 
opens  with  the  question,  "  What  is  the  chief  end  of  Man  ?  " 
The  answer  is  perhaps  one  of  the  noblest  in  the  whole  compass 
of  Theology.  "  Man's  chief  end  is  to  glorify  God  and  to  enjoy 
Him  forever."  f  Given  certain  further  beliefs  as  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  Divine  Being,  and  the  methods  of  His  government, 
then  indeed  it  would  be  true  that  this  is  a  conception  of  the 
purpose  of  Man's  existence  which  would  erect  mere  serviceable- 
ness  or  utility  into  a  perfect  rule  of  conduct.  Perhaps  even  a 
lower  or  less  perfect  conception  of  the  great  aim  of  Man's  life 
would  be  almost  enough.  If  virtue  and  beneficence  are  first  as- 
sumed to  be  the  highest  purpose  of  his  Being,  then  subserviency 
to  that  purpose  may  be  all  that  is  meant  by  goodness.  But, 
without  this  assumption  as  to  the  "  chief  end  of  Man,"  there 

*  Herbert  Spencer,  "  Data  of  Ethics,"  chap.  iii. 

t"  The  Shorter  Catechism,  presented  by  the  Westminster  Assembly  of  Divines  to 
both  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  by  them  approved." 


206  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

would  be  no  ethical  meaning  whatever  in  the  phrase  of  "  a  good 
man."  It  might  mean  a  good  thief,  or  a  good  torturer,  or  a  good 
murderer.  Utility  >  that  is  to  say,  mere  subserviency  to  any  pur- 
pose, is  undoubtedly  a  good  in  itself,  and  of  this  kind  is  the 
goodness  of  a  machine  which  is  invented  for  a  bad  or  evil  pur- 
pose. But  this  utility  in  the  machine  is,  so  far  as  the  machine 
is  concerned,  destitute  of  any  moral  character  whatever,  and,  so 
far  as  those  who  employ  it  are  concerned,  the  utility  is  not  virtu- 
ous, but,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  vicious.  It  is  clear,  therefore, 
that  when  the  word  "  Utility  "  is  used  as  meaning  moral  or  even 
physical  good,  and  still  more  when  it  is  identified  with  virtue, 
or  when  it  is  declared  to  be  the  standard  of  that  which  is  right 
or  virtuous  in  conduct,  the  word  is  used  not  in  its  own  proper 
sense,  but  in  a  special  or  adventitious  sense,  in  which  it  is  con- 
fined to  one  special  kind  of  usefulness,  namely,  that  which  con- 
duces to  good  ends,  and  good  aims,  and  good  purposes.  That 
is  to  say,  the  sense  in  which  utility  is  spoken  of  as  the  test  or 
standard  of  virtue  is  a  sense  which  assumes  that  goodness  and 
virtue  are  independently  known,  or  in  other  words,  that  they  are 
determined  and  recognized  by  some  other  test  and  some  other 
standard. 

It  is,  however,  clear  that  when  by  this  other  test  and  standard, 
whatever  it  may  be,  we  have  already  felt  or  apprehended  that  it 
is  right  and  virtuous  to  do  good  to  others,  then  the  usefulness 
of  any  action  or  of  any  course  of  conduct,  in  the  production  of 
such  good,  does  become  a  real  test  and  indication  of  that  which 
we  ought  to  do.  It  is  a  test  or  indication  of  the  particular  things 
which  it  is  right  to  do,  but  not  at  all  a  test  of  the  moral  Obliga- 
tion which  lies  upon  us  to  do  them.  This  Obligation  must  be 
assumed,  and  is  assumed,  in  every  argument  on  the  moral  Util- 
ity of  things.  It  is  by  confounding  these  two  very  distinct  ideas 
that  the  Utilitarian  theory  of  the  ultimate  basis  of  moral  Obli- 
gation has  so  long  maintained  a  precarious  existence,  borrow- 
ing from  the  misuse  of  words  a  strength  which  is  not  its  own. 
But  the  moment  this  distinction  is  clearly  apprehended,  then, 
although  we  set  aside  the  bare  idea  of  usefulness,  apart  from 
the  good  or  bad  purpose  towards  which  that  usefulness  con- 
duces, as  affording  any  explanation  whatever  of  the  ultimate 
nature  and  source  of  duty,  we  may  well  nevertheless,  be  ready 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         207 

to  adopt  all  that  the  Utilitarian  theory  can  show  us  of  that  in- 
separable unity  which  is  established  in  the  constitution  of  the 
world  between  the  moral  character,  and  the  ultimate  results, 
of  conduct.  As  far  as  these  results  can  be  traced  beforehand, 
and  in  proportion  as  they  can  be  traced  farther  and  farther  in 
the  light  of  expanding  knowledge,  they  do  indicate  the  path  of 
duty.  They  do  indicate  the  line  of  action  which  is  obligatory  on 
voluntary  agents,  to  whom  a  very  large  amount  of  power  is 
given  in  directing  the  course  of  things.  Beyond  all  doubt  there 
are  a  thousand  acts  and  a  thousand  courses  of  conduct  which 
are  in  accordance  with  the  Moral  Sense,  because  and  only  be- 
cause of  the  known  happiness  of  their  effects.  This  is  the  fact, 
or  rather  the  class  of  facts,  which  has  in  all  ages  recommended 
the  Utilitarian  theory  of  morals  to  so  many  powerful  minds. 
For,  indeed,  if  we  understand  by  utility,  not  the  low  or  limited 
idea  of  mere  usefulness  for  any  purpose — not  even  the  mere 
idea  of  pleasure  as  an  unquestionable  good  of  its  own  kind,  nor 
the  mere  idea  of  immediate  profit  or  advantage — but  the  very 
different  conception  of  the  beneficence  of  ultimate  results  on  the 
welfare  of  all  men  and  of  all  creatures,  then  there  may  be,  and 
probably  there  is,  an  universal  and  absolute  coincidence  be- 
tween the  things  which  it  is  wise,  and  the  things  which  it  is 
right,  to  do. 

Men  may  imagine,  and  they  have  imagined,  that  under  this 
conception  of  utility  they  can  devise  a  system  of  morality 
which  is  of  such  transcendental  excellence  that  it  is  far  too  good 
for  Earth.  Thus  it  has  been  laid  down  that  Evolution,  in  its 
most  perfect  conception,  would  be  such  that  the  development  of 
every  creature  would  be  compatible  with  the  equal  develop- 
ment of  every  other.  In  such  a  system  it  is  said  there  would 
be  no  "  struggle  for  existence — no  harmful  competition,  no  mu- 
tual devouring — no  death."  *  The  inspired  imaginings  of  the 
Jewish  Prophets  of  some  future  time  when  the  Lion  shall  lie 
down  with  the  Lamb,  and  the  ideas  which  have  clustered  round 
the  Christian  Heaven,  are  more  probably  the  real  origin  of  this 
conception  than  any  theory  of  Evolution  founded  on  the  facts 
and  laws  of  Nature.  But,  for  all  practical  purposes,  such  a  sys- 
tem of  Ethics  is  as  useless  as  the  dreams  of  Plato's  Republic  or 

*  Herbert  Spencer,  "  Data  of  Ethics,"  chap.  ii.  pp.  18, 19. 


2O8  THE   UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

of  More's  Utopia.  If,  however,  we  have  got  from  some  in« 
dependent  source  a  right  idea  of  that  which  will  be  most  benef- 
icent in  its  ultimate  results,  we  may  well  be  guided  by  this  light 
in  so  far  as  we  can  see  it.  But  inasmuch  as  these  far-off  results 
and  tendencies  of  conduct  cannot  always  be  within  sight,  and  are 
indeed  very  often  wholly  beyond  the  horizon  visible  to  us,  this 
admission,  or  rather  this  high  doctrine  that  the  Right  and  the 
Useful  are  always  coincident,  is  a  widely  different  doctrine  from 
that  which  identifies  the  sense  of  Obligation  with  the  perception 
of  Utility.  The  mere  perception  that  any  act  or  course  of  con- 
duct will  certainly  be  beneficent  in  its  results,  would  be  of  no 
avail  without  the  separate  feeling  that  it  is  right  to  strive  for 
results  which  are  beneficent. 

And  here  it  is  well  worthy  of  observation,  that  in  direct  pro- 
portion to  the  height  and  sublimity  of  the  meaning  artificially 
attached  to  the  word  "  utility,"  it  becomes  less  and  less  availa- 
ble as  a  test  or  as  a  rule  of  conduct.  So  long  as  the  simple  and 
natural  meaning  was  put  upon  utility,  and  the  good  was  identi- 
fied with  the  pleasurable,  or  the  serviceable,  the  Utilitarian  the- 
ory of  morals  did  indicate  at  least  some  rule  of  life,  however  low 
that  rule  might  be.  But  now  that  the  apostles  of  that  theory 
have  been  driven  to  put  upon  utility  a  transcendental  meaning, 
and  the  pleasurable  is  interpreted  to  refer  not  merely  to  the  im- 
mediate and  visible  effects  of  conduct  on  ourselves  or  others, 
but  to  its  remotest  effects  upon  all  living  Beings,  both  now  and 
for  all  future  time,  the  Utilitarian  theory  in  this  very  process  of 
sublimation  becomes  lifted  out  of  the  sphere  of  human  judg- 
ment. If  it  be  true  "  that  there  can  be  no  correct  idea  of  a 
part  without  a  correct  idea  of  the  correlative  whole,"  and  if  hu- 
man conduct  in  its  tendencies  and  effects  is  only  "  a  part  of 
universal  conduct,"  * — that  is  to  say,  of  the  whole  System  oi 
the  Universe  in  its  past,  its  present,  and  its  future — then,  as  this 
whole  is  beyond  all  our  means  of  knowledge  and  comprehen- 
sion, it  follows  that  utility,  in  this  sense,  can  be  no  guide  to  us, 
If  indeed  this  System  of  the  Universe  has  over  it,  or  in  it,  one 
Supreme  Authority,  and  if  we  knew  on  that  Authority  the 
things  which  do  make,  not  only  for  our  own  everlasting  peace, 
but  for  the  perfect  accomplishment  of  the  highest  purposes  of 

*  Herbert  Spencer,  "  Data  of  Ethics,"  chap.  i.  pp.  1-6. 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         2OQ 

Creation  to  all  living  things,  then  indeed  the  Rule  of  Utility  is 
resolved  into  the  simple  Rule  of  Obedience  to  legitimate  Au- 
thority. And  this  logical  result  is  consistent  with  all  we  know  of 
the  Unity  of  Nature,  and  with  all  that  we  can  conceive  of  the  cen- 
tral and  ultimate  Authority  on  which  its  Order  rests.  All  intui- 
tive perceptions  come  to  us  from  that  Authority.  All  instincts 
which  are  the  result  of  Organization  come  to  us  from  that  Au- 
thority. All  the  data  of  Reason  come  to  us  from  that  Authority. 
All  these  in  their  own  several  spheres  of  operation  may  well 
guide  us  to  what  is  right,  and  may  well  give  us,  too,  the  convic- 
tion that  what  is  right  is  also  what  is  best,  "  at  last,  far  off,  at 
last  to  all." 

Thus  far  a  clear  and  consistent  answer  can  be  given  to  one  of 
the  greatest  questions  of  ethical  inquiry,  namely,  the  nature  of  the 
relation  between  those  elements  in  conduct  which  make  it  useful, 
and  those  elements  in  conduct  which  make  it  virtuous.  The 
usefulness  of  conduct  in  promoting  ends  and  purposes  which 
are  good  is,  in  proportion  to  the  nature  and  extent  of  that  good, 
a  test  and  an  index  of  its  virtue.  But  the  usefulness  of  con- 
duct in  promoting  ends  and  purposes  which  are  not  good,  is  a 
mark  and  index,  not  of  virtue,  but  of  vice.  It  follows  from  this 
that  utility  in  itself  has  no  moral  character  whatever  apart  from 
the  particular  aim  which  it  tends  to  accomplish,  and  that  the 
moral  goodness  of  that  aim  is  presupposed  when  we  speak  or 
think  of  the  utility  of  conduct  as  indicative  of  its  virtue.  But 
this  character  of  goodness  must  be  matter  of  independent  and 
instinctive  recognition,  because  it  is  the  one  distinction  between 
the  kind  of  usefulness  which  is  virtuous  and  the  many  kinds  of 
usefulness  which  are  vicious.  Accordingly  we  find  in  the  last 
resort  that  our  recognition  of  Goodness  in  the  conduct  of  other 
men  towards  ourselves  is  inseparable  from  our  own  conscious- 
ness of  the  needs  and  wants  of  our  own  life,  and  of  the  tendency 
of  that  conduct  to  supply  them.  This  estimate  of  Goodness 
seated  in  the  very  nature  of  our  bodies  and  of  our  minds  be- 
comes necessarily,  also,  a  standard  of  Obligation  as  regards  our 
conduct  to  others  ;  for  the  unity  of  our  nature  with  that  of  our 
kind  and  fellows  is  a  fact  seen  and  felt  intuitively  in  the  sound 
of  every  voice  and  in  the  glance  of  every  eye  around  us. 

But  this  great  elementary  truth  of  morals,  that  we  ought  to 
M 


2IO  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

do  to  others  as  we  know  we  should  wish  them  to  do  to  us,  is 
not  the  only  truth  which  is  intuitively  perceived  by  the  Moral 
Sense.  There  is,  at  least,  one  other  among  the  rudiments  oi 
duty  which  is  quite  as  self-evident,  quite  as  important,  quite  as 
far-reaching  in  its  consequences,  and  quite  as  early  recognized. 
Obedience  to  the  Will  of  legitimate  Authority  is  necessarily  the 
first  of  all  motives  with  which  the  sense  of  Obligation  is  insep- 
arably associated  ;  whilst  its  opposite,  or  rebellion  against  the 
commands  of  legitimate  Authority,  is  the  spirit  and  the  motive 
upon  which  the  Moral  Sense  pronounces  its  earliest  sentence 
of  disapproval  and  of  condemnation.  At  first  sight  it  may  seem 
as  if  the  legitimacy  of  any  Authority  is  a  previous  question,  it- 
self requiring  to  be  determined  by  the  Moral  Sense,  seeing  that 
it  is  not  until  this  character  of  legitimacy  or  rightfulness  has 
been  recognized  as  belonging  to  some  particular  Authority,  that 
obedience  to  its  commands  comes  in  consequence  to  be  recog- 
nized as  wrong.  A  moment's  consideration,  however,  will  re- 
mind us  that  there  is  at  least  one  Authority  the  rightfulness  of 
which  is  not  a  question  but  a  fact.  All  men  are  born  of  Par- 
ents. All  men,  moreover,  are  born  in  a  condition  of  utter  help- 
lessness and  of  absolute  dependence.  Moreover,  this  depen- 
dence is  not  a  mere  external  dependence,  such,  for  example,  as 
the  dependence  of  a  slave  upon  a  master.  Still  less  is  it  like 
the  dependence  of  us  all  on  the  inanimate  materials  of  Nature. 
It  is  a  dependence  arising  out  of  conditions  full  to  overflowing 
of  all  the  elements  to  which  the  sentiment  of  moral  Obligation 
is  necessarily  and  intuitively  attached.  It  is  the  least  and  low- 
est of  these  elements  that  at  the  breasts  of  its  Mother  an  infant 
first  satisfies  its  hunger  and  its  thirst.  Other  elements  follow 
in  an  ascending  order.  Jn  the  arms  of  its  Mother  it  feels  the 
first  sense  of  rest,  and  the  first  ideas  of  refuge  and  of  protection. 
In  the  voice  of  its  Mother  it  hears  the  first  expressions  of  love, 
and  makes  the  first  responses  which  that  love  demands.  In 
the  smile  of  its  Mother  it  first  finds  the  great  gift  of  laughter. 
In  the  eyes  of  its  Mother  it  has  its  first  look  into  the  mirror  of 
another  spirit,  and  feels  the  answering  tides  which  are  stirring 
within  its  own.  These  are  but  a  part  of  the  great  claim  ac- 
cumulating with  the  hours  and  days,  upon  which  the  authority 
of  a  Mother  rests.  And  so  it  comes  to  pass  that  the  rightful- 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         211 

ness  of  that  Authority  is  by  the  necessities  of  Nature  recognized 
from  the  first,  and  when  its  voice  is  issued  in  command,  the 
duty  of  obedience  is  felt  and  known.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there- 
fore, and  not  at  all  as  a  matter  of  question  or  of  doubt,  our  first 
conception  of  duty,  or  of  moral  Obligation,  is  necessarily  and 
universally  attached  to  such  acts  as  are  in  conformity  with  the 
injunctions  of  this  first  and  most  indisputable  of  all  Authori- 
ties. 

Standing,  then,  on  this  firm  ground  of  universal  and  neces- 
sary experience,  we  are  able  to  affirm  with  absolute  conviction, 
that  our  earliest  conceptions  of  duty — our  earliest  exercises  of 
the  Moral  Sense — are  not  determined  by  any  considerations  of 
utility,  or  by  any  conclusions  of  the  judgment  on  the  results  or 
on  the  tendencies  of  conduct. 

But  the  same  reasoning,  founded  on  the  same  principle  of 
simply  investigating  and  ascertaining  facts,  will  carry  us  a  great 
way  farther  on.  As  we  grow  up  from  infancy,  we  find  that  our 
Parents  are  themselves  also  subject  to  Authority,  owing  and 
owning  the  duty  of  obedience  to  other  persons  or  to  other  pow- 
ers. This  higher  Authority  may  be  nothing  but  the  rules  and 
customs  of  a  rude  Tribe  ;  or  it  may  be  the  Will  of  an  absolute 
Sovereign  ;  or  it  may  be  the  accumulated  and  accepted  Tradi- 
tions of  a  Race  ;  or  it  may  be  the  Laws  of  a  great  civilized  Com- 
munity ;  or  it  may  be  the  Authority,  still  higher,  of  that  Power 
which  is  known  or  believed  to  be  supreme  in  Nature.  But  in 
all  and  in  each  of  these  cases,  the  sense  of  Obligation  is  insep- 
arably attached  to  obedience  to  some  Authority,  the  legitimacy 
or  rightfulness  of  which  is  not  itself  a  question  but  a  fact. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  these  rightful  Authorities,  which  are 
enthroned  in  Nature,  are  fortified  by  power  to  enforce  their  com- 
mands, and  to  punish  violations  of  the  duty  of  obedience.  It  is 
true,  therefore,  that  from  the  first  moments  of  our  existence  the 
sense  of  Obligation  is  re-enforced  by  the  fear  of  punishment.  And 
yet  we  know,  both  as  a  matter  of  internal  consciousness,  and  as  a 
matter  of  familiar  observation  in  others,  that  this  Sense  of  Ob- 
ligation is  not  only  separable  from  the  fear  of  punishment,  but 
is  even  sharply  contra-distinguished  from  it.  Not  only  is  the 
Sense  of  Obligation  powerful  in  cases  where  the  fear  of  punish- 
ment is  impossible,  but  in  direct  proportion  as  the  fear  of  pun- 


212  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

ishment  mixes  or  prevails,  the  moral  character  of  an  act  other- 
wise good  is  diminished  or  destroyed.  The  fear  of  punishment 
and  the  hope  of  reward  are,  indeed,  auxiliary  forces  which  can- 
not be  dispensed  with  in  society.  But  we  feel  that  complete 
goodness  and  perfect  virtue  would  dispense  with  them  altogether  ; 
or  rather,  perhaps,  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say,  that  the  hope 
of  reward  would  be  merged  and  lost  as  a  separate  motive  in  that 
highest  condition  of  mind  in  which  the  performance  of  duty  be- 
comes its  own  reward,  because  of  the  satisfaction  it  gives  to  the 
Moral  Sense,  and  because  of  the  love  borne  to  that  Authority 
whom  we  feel  it  our  duty  to  obey. 

The  place  occupied  by  this  instinctive  sentiment  in  the  equip- 
ment of  our  nature  is  as  obvious  as  it  is  important.  The  help- 
lessness of  infancy  and  of  childhood  is  not  greater  than  would 
be  the  helplessness  of  the  race  if  the  disposition  to  accept  and 
to  obey  Authority  were  wanting  in  us.  It  is  implanted  in  our 
nature  only  because  it  is  one  of  the  first  necessities  of  our  life, 
and  a  fundamental  condition  of  the  development  of  our  powers. 
All  Nature  breathes  the  spirit  of  Authority,  and  is  full  of  the 
exercise  of  command.  "  Thou  shalt,"  or  "  Thou  shalt  not," 
are  words  continually  on  her  lips,  and  all  her  injunctions  and 
all  her  prohibitions  are  backed  by  the  most  tremendous  sanc- 
tions. Moreover,  the  most  tremendous  of  these  sanctions  are 
often  those  which  are  not  audibly  proclaimed,  but  those  which 
come  upon  us  most  gradually,  most  imperceptibly,  and  after  the 
longest  lapse  of  time.  Some  of  the  most  terrible  diseases 
which  afflict  humanity  are  known  to  be  the  results  of  vice,  and 
what  has  long  been  known  of  some  of  these  diseases  is  more 
and  more  reasonably  suspected  of  many  others.  The  truth  is, 
that  we  are  born  into  a  System  of  things  in  which  every  act  car- 
ries with  it,  by  indissoluble  ties,  a  long  train  of  consequences 
reaching  to  the  most  distant  future,  and  which  for  the  whole 
course  of  time  affect  our  own  condition,  the  condition  of  other 
men,  and  even  the  conditions  of  external  Nature.  And  yet  we 
cannot  see  those  consequences  beyond  the  shortest  way,  and 
very  often  those  which  lie  nearest  are  in  the  highest  degree 
deceptive  as  an  index  to  ultimate  results.  Neither  pain  nor 
pleasure  can  be  accepted  as  a  guide.  With  the  lower  animals, 
indeed,  these,  for  the  most  part,  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth, 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         213 

and  nothing  but  the  truth.  Appetite  is  all  that  the  creature 
has,  and  in  the  gratification  of  it  the  highest  law  of  the  animal 
Being  is  fulfilled.  In  Man,  too,  appetite  has  its  own  indispens- 
able function  to  discharge.  But  it  is  a  lower  function,  and 
amounts  to  nothing  more  than  that  of  furnishing  to  Reason  a 
few  of  the  primary  data  on  which  it  has  to  work — a  few,  and  a 
few  only.  Physical  pain  is  indeed  one  of  the  threatenings 
of  natural  Authority  ;  and  physical  pleasure  is  one  of  its  re- 
wards. But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  forms  more  than 
a  mere  fraction  of  that  awful  and  Imperial  Code  under 
which  we  live.  It  is  the  Code  of  an  everlasting  Kingdom, 
and  of  a  jurisprudence  which  endures  throughout  all  genera- 
tions. It  is  a  Code  which  continually  imposes  on  Man  the 
abandonment  of  pleasure,  and  the  endurance  of  pain,  whenever 
and  wherever  the  higher  purposes  of  its  law  demand  of  him  the 
sacrifice.  Nor  has  this  spirit  of  Authority  ever  been  without 
its  witness  in  the  human  Spirit,  or  its  response  in  the  human 
Will.  On  the  contrary,  in  all  ages  of  the  world,  dark  and  dis- 
torted as  have  been  his  understandings  of  Authority,  Man  has 
been  prone  to  acknowledge  it,  and  to  admit  it  as  the  basis  of 
Obligation  and  the  rule  of  duty.  This,  at  all  events,  is  one 
side  of  his  character,  and  it  is  universally  recognized  as  the  best. 
There  is  no  difficulty,  then,  in  seeing  the  place  which  this 
Instinct  holds  in  the  Unity  of  Nature.  It  belongs  to  that  class 
of  gifts,  universal  in  the  world,  which  enable  all  living  things  to 
fulfil  their  part  in  the  Order  of  Nature,  and  to  discharge  the 
functions  which  belong  to  it.  It  is  when  we  pass  from  a  review 
of  those  instincts  and  powers  with  which  Man  has  been  en- 
dowed, to  a  review  of  their  actual  working  and  results,  that 
we  for  the  first  time  encounter  facts  which  are  wholly  excep- 
tional, and  which  it  is,  accordingly,  most  difficult  to  reconcile 
with  the  unities  of  Nature.  This  difficulty  does  not  lie  in  the 
mere  existence  of  a  Being  with  powers  which  require  for  their 
perfection  a  long  process  of  development.  There  is  no  singu- 
larity in  this.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  according  to  the  usual 
course  and  the  universal  analogy  of  Nature.  Development  in 
different  forms,  through  a  great  variety  of  stages,  and  at  differ- 
ent rates  of  progress,  is  the  most  familiar  of  all  facts  in  Crea- 
tion. In  the  case  of  some  of  the  lower  animals,  and  especially 


214  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

in  the  case  of  many  among  the  lowest,  the  process  of  develop 
ment  is  carried  to  an  extent  which  may  almost  be  said  to  make 
the  work  of  Creation  visible.  There  are  numberless  creatures 
which  pass  through  separate  stages  of  existence  having  no  like- 
ness whatever  to  each  other.  In  passing  through  these  stages, 
the  same  Organism  differs  from  itself  in  form,  in  structure,  in 
the  food  on  which  it  subsists,  and  even  in  the  very  element  in 
which  it  breathes  and  lives.  Physiologists  tell  us  that  changes 
having  a  mysterious  and  obscure  analogy  with  these,  pass  over 
the  embryo  of  all  higher  animals  before  their  birth.  But  after 
birth  the  development  of  every  individual  among  the  higher 
orders  of  creation  is  limited  to  those  changes  which  belong  to 
growth,  to  maturity,  and  decay.  Man  shares  in  these  changes, 
but  in  addition  to  these  he  undergoes  a  development  which 
affects  him  not  merely  as  an  individual,  but  as  a  species  and  a 
race.  This  is  purely  a  development  of  mind,  of  character,  and 
of  knowledge,  giving,  by  accumulation  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration, increased  command  over  the  resources  of  Nature,  and 
a  higher  understanding  of  the  enjoyments  and  of  the  aims  of 
life. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  this  is  a  kind  of  development  which  is 
itself  exceptional — that  is  to  say,  it  is  a  kind  of  development 
of  which  none  of  the  lower  animals  are  susceptible,  and  which 
therefore  separates  widely  between  them  and  Man.  But  al- 
though it  is  exceptional  with  reference  to  the  lower  orders  of 
Creation,  it  is  very  important  to  observe  that  it  constitutes  no 
anomaly  when  it  is  regarded  in  connection  with  Creation  as  a 
whole.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  the  natural  and  necessary  result 
of  the  gift  of  Reason  and  of  all  those  mental  powers  which  are 
its  servants  or  allies.  But  all  Nature  is  full  of  these — so  full, 
that  every  little  bit  and  fragment  of  its  vast  domain  overflows 
with  matter  of  inexhaustible  interest  to  that  one  only  Being 
who  has  the  impulse  of  inquiry  and  the  desire  to  know.  This 
power  or  capacity  in  every  department  of  Nature  of  fixing  the 
attention  and  of  engrossing  the  interest  of  Man,  depends  on 
the  close  correspondence  between  his  own  Faculties  and  those 
which  are  reflected  in  Creation,  and  on  his  power  of  recogniz- 
ing that  correspondence  as  the  highest  result  of  investigation 
The  lower  animals  do  reasonable  things  without  the  gift  of  Rea- 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         21$ 

son,  and  things,  as  we  have  seen,  often  involving  a  very  distant 
foresight,  without  having  themselves  any  knowledge  of  the  fu- 
ture. They  work  for  that  which  is  to  be,  without  seeing  or 
feeling  anything  beyond  that  which  is.  They  enjoy,  but  they 
cannot  understand.  Reason  is,  as  it  were,  brooding  over  them 
and  working  through  them,  whilst  at  the  same  time  it  is  want- 
ing in  them.  Between  the  Faculties  they  possess,  therefore, 
and  the  governing  principles  of  the  System  in  which  they  live 
and  under  which  they  serve,  there  is,  as  it  were,  a  vacant  space. 
It  is  no  anomaly  that  this  space  should  be  occupied  by  a  Being 
with  higher  powers.  On  the  contrary,  it  would  be  the  greatest 
of  all  anomalies  if  it  were  really  vacant.  It  would  be  strange 
indeed  if  there  were  no  link  connecting,  more  closely  than  any 
of  the  lower  animals  can  connect,  the  Mind  that  is  in  Creation 
with  the  Mind  that  is  in  the  Creature.  This  is  the  place  occu- 
pied by  Man's  Reason — Reason  not  outside  of,  but  in  the 
Creature — working  not  only  through  him,  but  also  in  him — 
Reason  conscious  of  itself,  and  conscious  of  the  relation  in 
which  it  stands  to  that  measureless  Intelligence  of  which  the 
Universe  is  full.  In  occupying  this  place,  Man  fills  up,  in  some 
degree  at  least,  what  would  otherwise  be  wanting  to  the  Con- 
tinuity of  things ;  and  in  proportion  as  he  is  capable  of  devel- 
opment— in  proportion  as  his  Faculties  are  expanded — he  does 
fill  up  this  place  more  and  more. 

There  is  nothing,  then,  really  anomalous  or  at  variance  with 
the  Unity  of  Nature,  either  in  the  special  elevation  of  the  pow- 
ers which  belong  to  Man,  or  in  the  fact  that  they  start  from 
small  beginnings,  and  are  capable  of  being  developed  to  an  ex- 
tent which,  though  certainly  not  infinite,  is  at  least  indefinite. 
That  which  is  really  exceptional,  and  indeed  absolutely  singular 
in  Man,  is  the  persistent  tendency  of  his  development  to  take 
a  wrong  direction.  In  all  other  creatures  it  is  a  process  which 
follows  a  certain  and  determined  law,  going  straight  to  a  defi- 
nite, consistent,  and  intelligible  end.  In  Man  alone  it  is  a 
process  which  is  prone  to  take  a  perverted  course,  tending  not 
merely  to  arrest  his  progress,  but  to  lead  him  back  along  de- 
scending paths  to  results  of  utter  degradation  and  decay.  I 
am  not  now  affirming  that  this  has  been  the  actual  course  of 
Man  as  a  Species  or  as  a  Race,  when  that  course  is  considered 


2l6  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

as  a  whole.  But  that  it  is  often  the  course  of  individual  men, 
and  that  it  has  been  the  course  of  particular  races  and  genera- 
tions of  men  in  the  history  of  the  world,  is  a  fact  which  cannot 
be  denied.  The  general  law  may  be  a  law  of  progress ;  but  it 
is  certain  that  this  '.aw  is  liable  not  only  to  arrest  but  to  re- 
versal. In  truth,  it  is  never  allowed  to  operate  unopposed,  or 
without  heavy  deductions  from  its  work.  For  there  is  another 
law  ever  present,  and  ever  working  in  the  reverse  direction. 
Running  alongside,  as  it  were,  of  the  tendency  to  progress, 
there  is  the  other  tendency  to  retrogression.  Between  these 
two  there  is  a  war  which  never  ceases, — sometimes  the  one, 
sometimes  the  other,  seeming  to  prevail.  And  even  when  the 
better  and  higher  tendency  is  in  the  ascendant,  its  victory  is 
qualified  and  abated  by  .its  great  antagonist.  For  just  as  in 
Physics  the  joint  operation  of  two  forces  upon  any  moving  body 
results  in  a  departure  from  the  course  it  would  have  taken  if  it 
had  been  subject  to  one  alone,  so  in  the  moral  world  almost  every 
step  in  the  progress  of  Mankind  deviates  more  or  less  from  the 
right  direction.  And  every  such  deviation  must  and  does  in- 
crease, until  much  that  had  been  gained  is  again  lost  in  new 
developments  of  corruption  and  of  vice.  The  recognition  of 
this  fact  does  not  depend  on  any  particular  theory  as  to  the 
nature  or  origin  of  moral  distinctions.  It  is  equally  clear, 
whether  we  judge  according  to  the  crudest  standard  of  the 
Utilitarian  scheme,  or  according  to  the  higher  estimates  of  an 
Independent  Morality.  Viewed  under  either  system,  the  course 
of  development  in  Man  cannot  be  reconciled  with  the  ordinary 
course  of  Nature,  or  with  the  general  law  under  which  all  other 
creatures  fulfil  the  conditions  of  their  being. 

It  is  no  mere  failure  to  realize  aspirations  which  are  vague 
and  imaginary  that  constitutes  this  exceptional  element  in  the 
history  and  in  the  actual  condition  of  Mankind.  That  which 
constitutes  the  terrible  anomaly  of  his  case  admits  of  perfectly 
clear  and  specific  definition.  Man  has  been,  and  still  is,  a 
constant  prey  to  appetites  which  are  morbid — to  opinions  which 
are  irrational — to  imaginations  which  are  horrible, — to  practices 
which  are  destructive.  The  prevalence  and  the  power  of  these 
in  a  great  variety  of  forms  and  of  degrees  is  a  fact  with  which 
we  are  familiar — so  familiar,  indeed,  that  we  fail  to  be  duly 


ON   THE   MORAL   CHARACTER   OF    MAN.  2 1/ 

impressed  with  the  strangeness  and  the  mystery  which  really 
belong  to  it.  All  savage  races  are  bowed  and  bent  under  the 
yoke  of  their  own  perverted  instincts — instincts  which  generally 
in  their  root  and  origin  have  an  obvious  utility,  but  which  in 
their  actual  development  are  the  source  of  miseries  without 
number  and  without  end.  Some  of  the  most  horrible  perver- 
sions which  are  prevalent  among  Savages  have  no  counterpart 
among  any  other  created  Beings,  and  when  judged  by  the 
barest  standard  of  utility,  place  Man  immeasurably  below  the 
level  of  the  Beasts.  We  are  accustomed  to  say  of  many  of  the 
habits  of  savage  life  that  they  are  "  brutal."  But  this  is  en- 
tirely to  misrepresent  the  place  which  they  really  occupy  in  the 
System  of  Nature.  None  of  the  Brutes  have  any  such  per- 
verted dispositions ;  none  of  them  are  ever  subject  to  the  de- 
structive operation  of  such  habits  as  are  common  among  men. 
And  this  contrast  is  all  the  more  remarkable  when  we  consider 
that  the  very  worst  of  these  habits  affect  conditions  of  life 
which  the  lower  animals  share  with  us,  and  in  which  any  de- 
parture from  those  natural  laws  which  they  universally  obey, 
must  necessarily  produce,  and  do  actually  produce,  conse- 
quences so  destructive  as  to  endanger  the  very  existence  of  the 
race.  Such  are  all  those  conditions  of  life  affecting  the  relation 
of  the  sexes  which  are  common  to  all  creatures,  and  in  which 
Man  alone  exhibits  the  widest  and  most  hopeless  divergence 
from  the  Order  of  Nature. 

It  fell  in  the  way  of  Malthus  in  his  celebrated  work  on  Popu- 
lation to  search  in  the  accounts  of  travellers  for  those  causes 
which  operate,  in  different  countries  of  the  world,  to  check  the 
progress,  and  to  limit  the  numbers  of  Mankind.  Foremost 
among  these  is  vice,  and  foremost  among  the  vices  is  that 
most  unnatural  one,  of  the  cruel  treatment  of  women.  "In 
every  part  of  the  world,"  says  Malthus,  '-'one  of  the  most 
general  characteristics  of  the  Savage  is  to  despise  and  degrade 
the  female  sex.  Among  most  of  the  tribes  in  America,  their 
condition  is  so  peculiarly  grievous,  that  servitude  is  a  name  too 
mild  to  describe  their  wretched  state.  A  wife  is  no  better  than 
a  beast  of  burden.  While  the  man  passes  his  days  in  idleness 
or  amusement,  the  woman  is  condemned  to  incessant  toil. 
Tasks  are  imposed  upon  her  without  mercy,  and  services  are 


2l8  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

received  without  complacence  or  gratitude.  There  are  some 
districts  in  America  where  this  state  of  degradation  has  been 
so  severely  felt  that  mothers  have  destroyed  their  female  in- 
fants, to  deliver  them  at  once  from  a  life  in  which  they  were 
doomed  to  such  a  miserable  slavery."  *  It  is  impossible  to  find 
for  this  most  vicious  tendency  any  place  among  the  Unities  of 
Nature.  There  is  nothing  like  it  among  the  Beasts.  With 
them  the  equality  of  the  sexes,  as  regards  all  the  enjoyments 
as  well  as  all  the  work  of  life,  is  the  universal  rule.  And 
among  those  of  them  in  which  social  instincts  have  been  spe- 
cially implanted,  and  whose  systems  of  polity  are  like  the  most 
civilized  polities  of  men,  the  females  of  the  race  are  treated 
with  a  strange  mixture  of  love,  of  loyalty,  and  of  devotion.  If, 
indeed,  we  consider  the  necessary  and  inevitable  results  of  the 
habit  prevalent  among  savage  men  to  maltreat  and  degrade 
their  women, — its  effects  upon  the  constitution,  and  character, 
and  endurance  of  children, — we  cannot  fail  to  see  how  grossly 
unnatural  it  is,  how  it  must  tend  to  the  greater  and  greater 
degradation  of  the  race,  and  how  recovery  from  this  downward 
path  must  become  more  and  more  difficult  or  impossible.  But 
vicious,  destructive,  unnatural  as  this  habit  is,  it  is  not  the  only 
one  or  the  worst  of  similar  character  which  prevail  among  sav- 
age men.  A  horrid  catalogue  comes  to  our  remembrance  when 
we  think  of  them — polyandry,  infanticide,  cannibalism,  deliber- 
ate cruelty,  systematic  slaughter  connected  with  warlike  pas- 
sions or  with  religious  customs.  Nor  are  these  vices,  or  the 
evils  resulting  from  them,  peculiar  to  the  savage  state.  Some 
of  them,  indeed,  more  or  less  changed  and  modified  in  form, 
attain  a  rank  luxuriance  in  civilized  communities,  corrupt  the 
very  bones  and  marrow  of  society,  and  have  brought  powerful 
nations  to  decay  and  death. 

It  is,  indeed,  impossible  to  look  abroad  either  upon  the  past 
history  or  the  existing  condition  of  Mankind,  whether  savage 
or  civilized,  without  seeing  that  it  presents  phenomena  which 
are  strange  and  monstrous — incapable  of  being  reduced  within 
the  harmony  of  things,  or  reconciled  with  the  Unity  of  Nature. 
The  contrasts  which  it  presents  to  the  general  laws  and  course 
of  Nature  cannot  be  stated  too  broadly.  There  is  nothing  like 

*  Malthus,  6th  Edition,  vol.  i.  p.  39. 


ON  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  MAN.         219 

it  in  the  world.  It  is  an  element  of  confusion  amidst  universal 
order.  Powers  exceptionally  high  spending  themselves  in 
activities  exceptionally  base  ;  the  desire  and  the  faculty  of  ac- 
quiring knowledge  coupled  with  the  desire  and  the  faculty  of 
turning  it  to  the  worst  account ;  instincts  immeasurably  superior 
to  those  of  other  creatures,  alongside  of  conduct  and  of  habits 
very  much  below  the  level  of  the  Beast — such  are  the  combina- 
tions with  which  we  have  to  deal  as  unquestionable  facts  when 
we  contemplate  the  actual  condition  of  Mankind.  And  they 
are  combinations  in  the  highest  degree  unnatural ;  there  is 
nothing  to  account  for,  or  to  explain  them  in  any  apparent 
natural  necessity. 

The  question  then  arises,  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  all  mys- 
teries,— how  it  is  and  why  it  is  that  the  higher  gifts  of  Man's  na- 
ture should  not  have  been  associated  with  corresponding  dispo- 
sitions to  lead  as  straight  and  as  unerringly  to  the  crown  and 
consummation  of  his  course,  as  the  dispositions  of  other  crea- 
tures do  lead  them  to  the  perfect  development  of  their  powers 
and  the  perfect  discharge  of  their  functions  in  the  economy  of 
Nature  ? 

It  is  as  if  weapons  had  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  Man 
which  he  has  not  the  strength,  nor  the  knowledge,  nor  the  rec- 
titude of  Will  to  wield  aright.  It  is  in  this  contrast  that  he 
stands  alone.  In  the  light  of  this  contrast  we  see  that  the  cor- 
ruption of  human  nature  is  not  a  mere  dogma  of  Theology,  but 
a  fact  of  science.  The  nature  of  Man  is  seen  to  be  corrupt  not 
merely  as  compared  with  some  imaginary  standard  which  is  sup- 
posed to  have  existed  at  some  former  time,  but  as  compared 
with  a  standard  which  prevails  in  every  other  department  of 
Nature  at  the  present  day.  We  see,  too,  that  the  analogies  of 
Creation  are  adverse  to  the  supposition  that  this  condition  of 
things  was  original.  It  looks  as  if  something  exceptional  must 
have  happened.  The  rule  throughout  all  the  rest  of  Nature  is, 
that  every  creature  does  handle  the  gifts  which  have  been  given 
to  it  with  a  skill  as  wonderful  as  it  is  complete,  for  the  highest 
purposes  of  its  own  Being,  and  for  the  fulfilment  of  its  part  in 
the  Unity  of  Creation.  In  Man  alone  we  have  a  Being  in  whom 
this  Adjustment  is  imperfect, — in  whom  this  faculty  is  so  defect- 
ive as  often  to  miss  its  aim.  Instead  of  unity  of  law  with  cer- 


220  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

tainty  and  harmony  of  result,  we  have  antagonism  of  laws,  with 
results  at  the  best  of  much  shortcoming  and  often  of  hopeless 
failure.  And  the  anomaly  is  all  the  greater  when  we  consider 
that  this  failure  affects  chiefly  that  portion  of  Man's  nature 
which  has  the  direction  of  the  rest — on  which  the  whole  result 
depends,  as  regards  his  conduct,  his  happiness,  and  his  destiny. 
The  general  fact  is  this — first;  that  Man  is  prone  to  set  up  and 
to  invent  standards  of  Obligation  which  are  low,  false,  mischiev- 
ous, and  even  ruinous  ;  and  secondly,  that  when  he  has  become 
possessed  of  standards  of  Obligation  which  are  high,  and  true, 
and  beneficent,  he  is  prone,  first,  to  fall  short  in  the  observance 
of  them,  and  next,  to  suffer  them,  through  various  processes  of 
decay,  to  be  obscured  and  lost. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF    MAN. 

IT  may  be  well,  before  proceeding  farther  in  this  branch  of 
our  inquiry,  to  retrace  for  a  little  the  path  we  have  been  follow- 
ing, and  to  identify  the  conclusions  to  which  we  have  been  led. 

In  the  first  place,  we  have  seen  that  the  Sense  of  Obligation 
considered  in  itself — that  is  to  say,  considered  apart  from  the 
particular  actions  to  which  it  is  attached — is  a  simple  and  ele- 
mentary conception  of  the  Mind,  insomuch  that  in  every  at- 
tempt to  analyze  it,  or  to  explain  its  origin  and  growth,  this  ab- 
surdity can  always  be  detected, — that  the  analysis  or  explana- 
tion universally  assumes  the  previous  existence  of  that  very  con- 
ception for  which  it  professes  to  account. 

In  the  second  place,  we  have  seen  that,  just  as  Reason,  or 
the  logical  Faculty,  begins  its  work  with  the  direct  perception 
of  some  simple  and  elementary  truths,  of  which  no  other  ac- 
count can  be  given  than  that  they  are  intuitively  perceived,  or, 
in  other  words,  that  they  are  what  is  called  "  self-evident,"  so, 
in  like  manner,  the  Moral  Sense  begins  its  work  with  certain 
elementary  perceptions  and  feelings  in  respect  to  conduct, 
which  arise  out  of  the  very  nature  of  things,  and  come  instinct- 
ively to  all  men.  The  earliest  of  these  feelings  is  the  Obliga- 
tion of  obedience  to  that  first  Authority  the  rightfulness  of 
which  over  us  is  not  a  question  but  a  fact.  The  next  of  these 
feelings  is  the  Obligation  of  acting  towards  other  men  as  we 
know  we  should  like  them  to  act  towards  ourselves.  The  first 
of  these  feelings  of  Obligation  is  inseparably  associated  with 
the  fact  that  all  men  are  born  helpless,  absolutely  dependent, 
and  subject  to  Parents.  The  second  of  these  feelings  of  Obli- 
gation is  similarly  founded  on  our  conscious  community  of  na- 
ture with  other  men,  and  on  the  consequent  universal  applica- 
bility to  them  of  our  own  estimates  of  good  and  evil. 

In  the  third  place,  we  have  seen  that  this  association  of  the 


222  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

higher  powers  of  Man  with  rudimentary  data  which  are  supplied 
by  the  facts  of  Nature,  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  that  condi- 
tion of  things  which  prevails  throughout  Creation, — the  condi- 
tion, namely,  that  every  creature  is  provided  from  the  first  with 
just  so  much  of  instinct  and  of  impulse  as  is  requisite  to  propel 
and  guide  it  in  the  kind  and  to  the  measure  of  development  of 
which  its  Organism  is  susceptible,  leading  it  with  unfailing  reg- 
ularity to  the  fulfilment  of  the  law  of  its  own  Being,  and  to  the 
successful  discharge  of  the  functions  assigned  to  it  in  the 
world. 

In  the  fourth  place,  we  have  seen  that  the  only  really  excep- 
tional fact  connected  with  Man  is — not  that  he  has  faculties  of 
a  much  higher  kind  than  other  creatures,  nor  that  these  facul- 
ties are  susceptible  of  a  corresponding  kind  and  measure  of 
development — but  that  in  Man  alone  this  development  has  a  per- 
sistent tendency  to  take  a  wrong  direction,  leading  not  towards, 
but  away  from,  the  perfecting  of  his  powers. 
•s  In  the  last  place,  we  have  seen  that  as  a  matter  of  fact,  and 
as  a  result  of  this  tendency,  a  very  large  portion  of  Mankind, 
embracing  almost  all  the  savage  races,  and  large  numbers  of 
men  among  the  most  civilized  communities,  are  a  prey  to  hab- 
its, practices,  and  dispositions  which  are  monstrous  and  unnat- 
ural— one  test  of  this  unnatural  character  being  that  nothing 
analogous  is  to  be  found  among  the  lower  animals  in  those 
spheres  of  impulse  and  of  action  in  which  they  have  a  common 
nature  with  our  own  \  and  another  test  being  that  these  prac- 
tices, habits,  and  dispositions  are  always  directly  injurious  and 
often  even  fatal  to  the  race.  Forbidden  thus  and  denounced 
by  the  highest  of  all  Authorities,  which  is  the  Authority  of  Nat- 
ural Law,  these  habits  and  practices  stand  before  us  as  unques- 
tionable exceptions  to  the  Unity  of  Nature,  and  as  conspicuous 
violations  of  the  general  harmony  of  Creation. 

When,  however,  we  have  come  to  see  that  such  is  really  the 
character  of  these  results,  we  cannot  be  satisfied  with  the  mere 
recognition  of  their  existence  as  a  fact.  We  seek  an  explana- 
tion and  a  cause.  We  seek  for  this,  moreover,  in  a  very  differ- 
ent sense  from  that  in  which  we  seek  for  an  explanation  and  a 
cause  of  those  facts  which  have  the  opposite  character  of  being 
according  to  law  and  in  harmony  with  the  analogies  of  Nature. 


ON   THE    DEGRADATION   OF    MAN.  223 

With  facts  of  this  last  kind,  when  we  have  found  the  place  into 
which  they  fit  in  the  order  of  things,  we  can  and  we  do  rest 
satisfied  as  facts  which  are  really  ultimate — that  is  to  say,  as 
facts  for  which  no  other  explanation  is  required  than  that  they 
are  part  of  the  Order  of  Nature,  and  are  due  to  that  one  great 
cause,  or  to  that  combination  of  causes,  from  which  the  whole 
harmony  and  Unity  of  Nature  is  derived.  But  when  we  are 
dealing  with  facts  which  cannot  be  brought  within  this  cate- 
gory ? — which  cannot  be  referred  to  this  Order,  but  which  are, 
on  the  contrary,  an  evident  departure  from  it, — then  we  must 
feel  that  these  facts  require  an  explanation  and  a  cause  as  spe- 
cial and  exceptional  as  the  results  themselves. 

There  is,  indeed,  one  theory  in  respect  to  those  mysterious 
aberrations  of  Human  Character,  which,  although  widely  prev- 
alent, can  only  be  accepted  as  an  explanation  by  those  who 
fail  to  see  in  what  the  real  difficulty  consists.  That  theory  is, 
that  the  vicious  and  destructive  habits  and  tendencies  prevail 
ing  among  men,  are  not  aberrant  phenomena  at  all,  but  are  orig- 
inal conditions  of  our  nature, — that  the  very  worst  of  them 
have  been  primitive  and  universal,  so  that  the  lowest  forms  of 
savage  life  are  the  nearest  representatives  of  the  primordial 
condition  of  the  race. 

Now,  assuming  for  the  present  that  this  were  true,  it  would 
follow  that  the  anomaly  and  exception  which  Man  presents 
among  the  unities  of  Nature  is  much  more  violent  and  more 
profound  than  on  any  other  supposition.  For  it  would  represent 
the  contrast  between  his  instincts  and  those  of  the  lower  ani- 
mals as  greatest  and  widest  at  the  very  moment  when  he  first 
appeared  among  the  creatures  which,  in  respect  to  these  in- 
stincts, are  so  superior  to  himself.  And  it  is  to  be  observed 
that  this  argument  applies  equally  to  every  conceivable  theory 
or  belief  as  to  the  origin  of  Man.  It  is  equally  true  whether 
he  was  a  special  creation,  or  an  unusual  birth,  or  the  result  of 
a  long  series  of  unusual  births,  each  marked  by  some  new  ac- 
cession to  the  aggregate  of  faculties  which  distinguish  him  from 
the  lower  animals.  As  regards  the  anomaly  he  presents,  it  mat- 
ters not  which  of  these  theories  of  his  origin  be  held.  If  his  birth, 
or  his  creation,  or  his  development,  whatever  its  methods  may 
have  been,  took  place  after  the  analogy  of  the  lower  animals, 


224  THE    UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

then,  along  with  his  higher  powers  of  mind,  there  would  have 
been  corresponding  instincts  associated  with  them  to  guide  and 
direct  those  powers  in  their  proper  use.  It  is  in  this  essential 
condition  of  all  created  things  that  Man,  especially  in  his  sav- 
age state,  presents  an  absolute  contrast  with  the  Brutes.  It  is 
no  explanation,  but,  on  the  contrary,  an  insuperable  increase 
of  the  difficulty,  to  suppose  that  this  contrast  was  widest  and 
most  absolute  when  Man  made  his  first  appearance  m  the 
world.  It  would  be  to  assume  that,  for  a  most  special  and 
most  exceptional  result,  there  was  no  special  or  exceptional 
cause.  If  Man  was,  indeed,  born  with  an  innate  propensity  to 
maltreat  his  women,  to  murder  his  children,  to  kill  and  eat  his 
fellow,  to  turn  the  physical  functions  of  his  nature  into  usej 
which  are  destructive  to  his  race,  then,  indeed,  it  would  be 
literally  true  that 

"  Dragons  of  the  prime, 
That  tear  each  other  In  their  slime, 
Were  mellow  music  matched  with  him." 

It  would  be  true,  because  there  were  no  dragons  of  the  prime, 
even  as  there  are  no  reptiles  of  the  present  age — there  is  no 
creature,  however  terrible  or  loathsome  its  aspect  may  be  to  us, 
among  all  the  myriads  of  created  things — which  does  not  pass 
through  all  the  stages  of  its  development  with  perfect  accuracy 
to  the  end,  or  which,  having  reached  that  end,  fails  to  exhibit 
a  corresponding  harmony  between  its  propensities  and  its  pow- 
ers, or  between  both  of  these  and  the  functions  it  has  to  per- 
form in  the  economy  of  Creation.  So  absolute  and  so  perfect 
is  this  harmony,  that  men  have  dreamed  that  somehow  it  is  self- 
caused,  the  need  and  the  requirement  of  a  given  function  pro- 
ducing its  appropriate  Organ,  and  the  Organ  again  reacting  on 
the  requirement  and  the  need.  Whatever  may  be  the  confusion 
of  thought  involved  in  this  idea,  it  is  at  least  an  emphatic  testi- 
mony to  the  fact  of  an  order  and  an  adjustment  of  the  most 
perfect  kind  prevailing  in  the  work  of  what  is  called  Evolution, 
and  suggesting  some  cause  which  is  of  necessary  and  universal 
operation.  The  nearer  therefore  we  may  suppose  the  origin  of 
Man  may  have  been  to  the  origin  of  the  Brutes,  the  nearer  also 
would  his  condition  have  been  to  the  fulfilment  of  a  law  which 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF    MAN.  22$ 

is  of  universal  application  among  them.  Under  the  fulfilment 
of  that  law  the  higher  gifts  and  powers  with  which  Man  is  en- 
dowed would  have  run  smoothly  their  appointed  course,  would 
have  unfolded  as  a  bud  unfolds  to  flower, — as  a  flower  ripens 
into  fruit, — and  would  have  presented  results  absolutely  differ- 
ent from  those  which  are  actually  presented  either  by  the  sav- 
age, or  by  what  is  called  the  civilized,  condition  of  Mankind. 

And  here  it  may  be  well  to  define,  as  clearly  as  we  can,  what 
we  mean  by  Civilization,  because  the  word  is  very  loosely  used, 
and  because  the  conceptions  it  involves  are  necessarily  com- 
plex. Usually  it  is  associated  in  our  minds  with  all  that  is 
highest  in  the  social,  moral,  and  political  condition  of  the 
Christian  nations  as  represented  in  our  own  country  and  in  our 
own  time.  Thus,  for  example,  respect  for  human  life,  and 
tenderness  towards  every  form  of  human  suffering,  is  one  of 
the  most  marked  features  of  the  best  modern  culture.  But  we 
know  that  this  sentiment,  and  many  others  which  are  related 
to  it,  were  comparatively  feeble  in  the  case  of  other  societies 
which,  nevertheless,  we  acknowledge  to  have  been  very  highly 
civilized.  We  must,  therefore,  attach  some  more  definite  and  re- 
stricted meaning  to  the  word,  and  we  must  agree  to  understand 
by  Civilization  only  those  characteristic  conditions  which  have 
been  common  to  all  peoples  whom  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
recognize  as  among  the  governing  nations  of  the  world.  And 
when  we  come  to  consider  what  these  characteristics  are,  we 
find  that,  though  complex,  they  are  yet  capable  of  being  brought 
within  a  tolerably  clear  and  simple  definition.  The  Latin  word 
rim's,  from  which  our  word  Civilization  comes,  still  represents 
the  fundamental  conception  which  is  involved.  The  citizen  of 
an  imperial  City, — the  subject  of  an  imperial  Ruler, — the  mem- 
ber of  a  great  State, — this  was  the  condition  which  constituted 
the  Roman  idea  of  the  rank  and  status  of  Civilization.  No 
doubt  many  things  are  involved  in  this  condition,  and  many 
other  things  have  come  to  be  associated  with  it.  But  the  es- 
sential elements  of  the  civilized  condition,  as  thus  defined  or 
understood,  can  readily  be  separated  from  others  which  are  not 
essential.  An  extended  knowledge  of  the  useful  arts,  and  the 
possession  of  such  a  settled  system  of  Law  and  Government  as 
enables  men  to  live  in  great  political  communities,  these  are 
15 


226  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

the  essential  features  of  what  we  understand  by  Civilization. 
Other  characteristics  may  co-exist  with  these,  but  nothing  more 
is  necessarily  involved  in  a  proper  understanding,  or  even  in 
the  usual  application  of  the  word.  In  particular,  we  cannot  af- 
firm that  a  civilized  condition  involves  necessarily  any  of  the 
higher  moral  elements  of  character.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  no 
great  State,  nor  even  any  great  City,  can  have  been  founded 
and  built  up  without  courage  and  patriotism.  Accordingly 
these  were  perhaps  the  most  esteemed  virtues  of  antiquity.  But 
these  are  by  no  means  confined  to  civilized  men,  and  are,  in- 
deed, often  conspicuous  in  the  Savage  and  in  the  Barbarian. 
Courage,  in  at  least  its  lower  forms,  is  one  of  the  commonest  of 
all  qualities  ;  and  patriotism,  under  the  like  limitation,  may  al- 
most be  said  to  be  an  universal  passion.  It  is  in  itself  simply 
a  natural  consequence  of  the  Social  Instinct,  common  to  Man 
and  to  many  of  the  lower  animals — that  Instinct  which  leads  us 
to  identify  our  own  passions  and  our  own  sympathies  with  any 
brotherhood  to  which  we  may  belong, — whatever  the  associat- 
ing tie  of  that  brotherhood  may  be, — whether  it  be  morally 
good,  bad,  or  indifferent.  Like  every  other  instinct,  it  rises  in 
its  moral  character  in  proportion  as  it  is  guided  by  reason  and 
by  conscience,  and  in  proportion  as,  through  these,  it  becomes 
identified  with  duty  and  with  self-devotion.  But  the  idea  of 
Civilization  is  in  itself  separate  from  the  idea  of  virtue.  Men 
of  great  refinement  of  manner^  may  be,  and  often  are,  exceed- 
ingly corrupt.  And  what  is  true  of  individuals  is  true  of  com- 
munities. The  highest  civilizations  of  the  heathen  world  were 
marked  by  a  very  low  code  of  morals,  and  by  a  practice  even 
lower  than  their  code.  But  the  intellect  was  thoroughly  culti- 
vated. Knowledge  of  the  useful  arts,  taste  in  the  fine  arts,  and 
elaborate  systems  both  of  civil  polity  and  of  military  organiza- 
tion, combined  to  make,  first  Greek,  and  then  Roman,  civiliza- 
tion, in  such  matters  the  basis  of  our  own. 

It  is,  therefore,  only  necessary  to  consider  for  a  moment  these 
essential  characteristics  of  what  we  mean  by  Civilization,  to  see 
that  it  is  a  conception  altogether  incongruous  with  any  possible 
idea  we  can  form  of  the  condition  of  our  First  Parents,  or,  in- 
deed, of  their  offspring  for  many  generations.  An  extended 
knowledge  of  the  useful  arts  is  of  necessity  the  result  of  ac- 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION    OF    MAN.  227 

cumulation.  Highly  organized  systems  of  polity  were  both 
needless  and  impossible  before  settled  and  populous  communi- 
ties had  arisen.  Government  was  a  simple  matter  when  the 
"  world's  gray  fathers  "  exercised  over  their  own  children  the 
first  and  the  most  indisputable  of  all  authorities. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  the  two  words  which  are  habitually  used 
to  indicate  the  condition  opposite  to  that  of  Civilization  are 
words  both  of  which  have  come  to  mean  a  great  deal  more  than 
mere  ignorance  of  the  useful  arts,  or  a  merely  rudimentary  state 
of  Law  and  Government.  These  two  words  are  Barbarism  and 
Savagery.  Each  of  these  has  come  to  be  associated  with  the 
idea  of  special  vices  of  character  and  of  habit,  such  as  cruelty 
and  ferocity.  But  "Barbarian,"  in  the  classical  language  from 
which  it  came  to  us,  had  no  such  meaning.  It  was  applied  in- 
discriminately by  the  Greeks  to  all  nations,  and  to  all  conditions 
of  society  other  than  their  own,  and  did  not  necessarily  imply  any 
fault  or  failure  other  than  that  of  not  belonging  to  the  race,  and 
not  partaking  of  the  culture  which  was  then,  in  many  respects 
at  least,  the  highest  in  the  world.  St.  Paul  refers  to  all  men 
who  spoke  in  any  tongue  unknown  to  the  Christian  communities 
as  men  who  were  "  to  them  barbarians."  But  he  did  not  asso- 
ciate this  term  with  any  moral  faults,  such  as  violence  or  feroc- 
ity ;  on  the  contrary,  in  his  narrative  of  his  shipwreck  on  the 
coast  of  Malta,  he  calls  the  natives  of  that  Island  "barbarous 
people  "  in  the  same  sentence  in  which  he  tells  us  of  their  kind- 
ness and  hospitality.  This  simple  and  purely  negative  meaning 
of  the  word  barbarian  has  been  lost  to  us,  and  it  has  become  in- 
separably associated  with  characteristics  which  are  indeed  com- 
mon among  uncivilized  nations,  but  are  by  no  means  confined 
to  them.  The  epithet  "  savage,"  of  course,  still  more  distinctly 
means  something  quite  different  from  rude,  or  primitive,  or  un- 
cultivated. The  element  of  cruelty  or  of  ferocity  is  invariably 
present  to  the  mind  when  we  speak  of  savagery,  although  there 
are  some  races — as,  for  example,  the  Eskimo — who  are  totally 
uncivilized,  but  who,  in  this  sense,  are  by  no  means  savage. 

And  this  may  well  remind  us  that,  as  we  have  found  it  neces- 
sary to  define  to  ourselves  the  condition  which  we  are  to  under- 
stand by  the  word  Civilization,  so  it  is  not  less  essential  to  de- 
fine and  limit  the  times  to  which  we  are  to  apply  the  word 


228  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

Primeval.  For  this  word  also  is  habitually  used  with  even 
greater  laxity  of  meaning.  It  is  often  employed  as  synonymous 
with  primitive,  and  this  again  is  applied  not  only  to  all  times 
which  are  pre-historic,  but  to  all  conditions  even  in  our  own  age 
which  are  rude  or  savage.  There  is  an  assumption  that,  the 
farther  we  go  back  in  time,  there  was  not  only  less  and  less  ex- 
tensive knowledge  of  the  useful  arts, — not  only  simpler  and 
simpler  systems  of  life  and  polity, — but  also  that  there  were 
deeper  and  deeper  depths  of  the  special  characteristics  of  the 
modern  Savage.  We  have,  however,  only  to  consider  what 
some  of  these  characteristics  are,  to  be  convinced  that  although 
they  may  have  arisen  in  early  times,  they  cannot  possibly  have 
existed  in  the  times  which  were  the  earliest  of  all.  Things 
may  have  been  done,  and  habits  may  have  prevailed,  when 
the  multiplication  and  dispersion  of  Mankind  had  proceeded 
to  a  considerable  extent,  which  cannot  possibly  have  been 
dqne,  and  which  cannot  possibly  have  prevailed  when  as  yet 
there  was  only  a  single  pair  of  Beings  "  worthy  to  be  called  " 
man  and  woman,  nor  even  when  as  yet  all  the  children  of 
that  pair  knew  themselves  to  be  of  one  family  and  blood. 
The  word  Primeval  ought,  if  it  is  to  have  any  definite  meaning 
at  all,  to  be  confined  to  this  earliest  time  alone.  It  has  already 
been  pointed  out,  that  on  the  supposition  that  the  condition  of 
primeval  Man  approximated  to  the  condition  of  the  lower  an- 
imals, that  condition  could  not  have  been  nearer  to,  but  must, 
on  the  contrary,  have  been  very  much  farther  removed  from,  the 
condition  of  the  modern  Savage.  If,  for  example,  there  ever 
was  a  time  when  there  existed  on  one  spot  of  Earth,  or  even  on 
more  spots  than  one,  a  single  pair  of  human  Beings,  it  is  impos- 
sible that  they  should  have  murdered  their  offspring,  or  that 
they  should  have  killed  and  eaten  each  other.  Accordingly  it 
is  admitted  that  cannibalism  and  infanticide,  two  of  the  com- 
monest practices  of  savage  and  of  barbarous  life,  cannot  have 
been  Primeval.  But  this  is  a  conclusion  of  immense  signifi- 
cance. It  hints  to  us,  if  it  does  no  more,  that  what  is  true  of 
one  savage  practice  may  possibly  be  true  of  others.  It  breaks 
down  the  presumption  that  whatever  is  most  savage  is  therefore 
probably  the  most  ancient. 

And  then,  when  we  come  to  think  of  it,  this  idea,  from  being 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF   MAN.  229 

vague  and  general,  rises  into  suggestions  which  are  definite  and 
specific.  On  the  great  fundamental  subject  of  the  relation  of 
the  sexes,  conclusions  not  less  important  than  those  respect- 
ing cannibalism  and  infanticide  are  forced  upon  our  conviction. 
We  have  seen  that  the  cruel  treatment  of  the  female  sex  is  almost 
universal  among  Savages,  and  that  it  is  entirely  unknown  among 
the  lower  animals.  It  is  in  the  highest  degree  improbable  and 
unnatural  to  suppose  that  this  habit  can  have  been  Primeval. 
But  the  same  considerations  carry  us  a  great  deal  farther. 
They  raise  a  presumption  in  favor  of  the  later  origin  of  other 
habits  and  customs  which  are  not  confined  to  the  savage  state, 
but  have  prevailed,  and  do  now  prevail,  among  nations  com- 
paratively civilized.  There  can  have  been  no  polygamy  when 
as  yet  there  was  only  a  single  pair,  or  when  there  were  several 
single  pairs  widely  separated  from  each  other.  The  presump- 
tion, if  not  the  certainty,  therefore  is,  that  Primeval  Man  must 
have  been  monogamous.  It  is  a  presumption  supported  by 
the  general  equality  of  the  sexes  in  respect  to  the  numbers 
born,  with  only  just  such  an  excess  of  the  male  sex  as  tends  to 
maintain  that  equality  against  the  greater  risks  to  life  arising 
out  of  manly  pursuits  and  duties.  Thus  the  facts  of  Nature 
point  to  polygamy  as  in  all  probability  a  departure  from  the 
habits  of  primeval  times.  Like  considerations  set  aside,  as  in 
a  still  higher  degree  unnatural  and  improbable,  the  primeval 
rank  of  other  customs  which  the  historians  of  human  culture 
tell  us,  and  probably  tell  us  truly,  that  there  are  many  surviv- 
ing traces  among  the  existing  customs  of  men.  Thus  "  mar- 
riage by  capture  "  cannot  have  been  Primeval.  It  may  be  very 
ancient ;  but  it  cannot  possibly  have  arisen  until  the  family 
of  Man  had  so  multiplied  and  scattered,  that  they  had  become 
divided  into  tribes  accustomed  to  act  with  violence  towards 
each  other.  And  then  as  regards  a  custom  still  more  barba- 
rous and  savage,  namely,  that  of  polyandry,  and  that  which  is 
now  euphemistically  called  "communal  marriage,'*  apart  from 
the  strong  presumption  in  favor  of  primeval  monogamy,  they 
are  stamped  by  many  separate  considerations  as  corruptions 
and  as  departures  from  primeval  habits.  In  the  first  place,  all 
such  customs  are  fatally  injurious  to  the  propagation  of  the  race. 
In  the  second  place,  they  are  unknown  in  the  animal  world, 


230  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

In  the  third  place,  their  origin  can  be  assigned,  in  many  cases, 
if  not  with  certainty  at  least  with  the  highest  probability,  to  one 
cause,  and  that  is  the  previously-acquired  habit  of  female  infan- 
ticide. But  as  regards  this  last  habit,  besides  the  certainty 
that  it  cannot  have  been  Primeval,  we  know  that  it  has  often 
arisen  from  customs  such  as  the  exorbitant  cost  of  marriage 
portions,  which  can  only  have  grown  up  under  long-developed 
and  highly  artificial  conditions  of  society. 

But  powerful  as  all  these  separate  considerations  are  to  raise 
at  least  adverse  presumptions  against  the  primeval  rank  of 
the  worst  and  commonest  characteristics  of  savage  life,  the 
force  of  these  considerations  is  much  increased  when  we  find 
that  they  are  closely  connected  together,  and  that  they  all  lead 
up  to  the  recognition  of  a  principle  and  a  law.  That  principle 
is  no  other  than  the  principle  of  Development;  that  law  is 
no  other  than  the  law  of  Evolution.  It  is  a  curious  misunder- 
standing of  what  that  law  really  is,  to  suppose  that  it  leads  only 
in  one  direction.  It  leads  in  every  direction  in  which  there  is 
at  work  any  one  of  the  "potential  energies"  of  Nature.  De- 
velopment is  the  growth  of  germs,  and  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  germ  so  is  the  nature  of  the  growth.  The  flowers  and 
fruits  which  minister  to  the  use  of  Man  have  each  their  own  seed, 
and  so  have  the  briars  and  thorns  which  choke  them.  Evil  has  its 
germs  as  well  as  good,  and  the  evolution  of  them  is  accompa- 
nied by  effects  to  which  it  is  impossible  to  assign  a  limit.  Move- 
ment is  the  condition  of  all  Being,  in  moral  as  well  as  in  material 
things.  Just  as  one  thing  leads  to  another  in  knowledge  and  in 
virtue,  so  does  one  thing  lead  to  another  in  ignorance  and  vice. 
Those  gradual  processes  of  change  which  arise  out  of  action  and 
reaction  between  the  external  condition  and  the  internal  nature 
of  Man  have  an  energy  in  them  of  infinite  complexity  and  power. 
We  stand  here  on  the  firm  ground  of  observation  and  experience. 
In  the  shortest  space  of  time  far  within  the  limits  even  of  a  sin- 
gle life,  we  are  accustomed  to  see  such  processes  effectual  both 
to  elevate  and  degrade.  The  weak  become  weaker  and  the 
bad  become  worse.  "  To  him  that  hath  more  is  given,  and  from 
him  that  hath  not  is  taken  even  that  which  he  seemeth  to  have.' 
And  this  law,  in  the  region  of  character  and  of  morals,  is  but  the 
counterpart  of  the  law  which  prevails  in  the  physical  regions  of 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION    OF   MAN. 


231 


Nature,  where  also  Development  has  its  double  aspect.  It  can- 
not bring  one  Organism  to  the  top,  without  sinking  another 
Organism  to  the  bottom.  That  vast  variety  of  natural  causes 
which  have  been  grouped  and  almost  personified  under  the 
phrase  "  Natural  Selection,"  are  causes  which  necessarily  in- 
clude both  favorable  and  unfavorable  conditions.  Natural  Re- 
jection, therefore,  is  the  inseparable  correlative  of  Natural  Se- 
lection. In  the  battle  of  life  the  triumph  of  one  individual,  or 
of  one  species,  is  the  result  of  causes  which  bring  about  the  fail- 
ure of  another.  But  there  is  this  great  distinction  between  the 
lower  animals  and  Man, — that  in  their  case  failure  involves 
death  and  complete  extinction,  whilst  in  his  case  it  is  compati- 
ble with  prolonged  survival.  So  far  as  mere  existence  is  con- 
cerned, the  almost  infinite  plasticity  and  adaptability  of  his  na- 
ture enable  him  to  accommodate  himself  to  the  hardest  lot,  and 
to  the  most  unfavorable  conditions.  Man  is  the  only  animal 
whose  possible  distribution  is  not  limited  to  narrow,  or  compara- 
tively narrow,  areas,  in  consequence  of  exclusive  depen- 
dence upon  particular  conditions  of  climate  and  of  productions. 
Some  such  conditions  of  a  highly  favorable  kind  may,  and 
indeed  must,  have  governed  the  selection  of  his  birthplace  and 
of  his  infancy.  But  when  once  born  and  fairly  launched  upon 
his  course,  it  was  in  his  nature  to  be  able  to  prevail  over  all 
or  over  most  of  the  limitations  which  are  imposed  upon  the 
lower  animals.  But  it  is  this  very  power  of  adaptation  to  un- 
favorable circumstances  which  involves  of  necessity  the  possi- 
bility of  his  development  taking  an  equally  unfavorable  di- 
rection. If  he  can  rise  to  any  level,  so  also  can  he  descend  to 
any  depth.  It  is  not  merely  that  faculties,  for  the  exercise  of 
which  there  is  no  call  and  no  opportunity,  remain  dormant,  but 
it  is,  also,  that  if  such  faculties  have  already  been  exercised, 
they  may  and  often  do  become  so  stunted  that  nothing  but 
the  rudiments  remain. 

With  such  immense  possibilities  of  change  inherent  in  the 
nature  of  Man,  we  have  to  consider  the  great  element  of  Time. 
Strangely  enough,  it  seems  to  be  very  commonly  assumed  that 
the  establishment  of  a  great  antiquity  for  the  human  race  has 
some  natural,  if  not  some  necessary,  connection  with  the  theory 
that  Primeval  Man  stood  on  some  level  far  lower  even  than 


232  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

any  existing  Savage.  And  no  doubt  this  connection  would  be 
a  real  one  if  it  were  true  that  during  some  long  series  of  ages 
Development  "had  not  only  been  always  working,  but  had 
always  been  working  upwards.  But  if  it  be  capable  of  working, 
and  if  it  has  been  actually  working,  also  in  the  opposite 
direction,  then  the  element  of  Time  in  its  bearing  upon  condi- 
tions of  modern  savagery  must  have  had  a  very  different 
operation.  For  here  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  Savage  of 
the  present  day  is  as  far  removed  in  time  from  the  common 
origin  of  our  race  as  the  man  who  now  exhibits  the  highest 
type  of  moral  and  intellectual  culture.  Whether  that  time  is 
represented  by  six  thousand,  or  ten  thousand,  or  a  hundred 
thousand  years,  it  is  the  same  for  both.  If  therefore  the 
number  of  years  since  the  origin  of  Man  be  taken  as  a 
multiplier  in  the  processes  of  elevation,  it  must  be  taken 
equally  as  a  multiplier  in  the  processes  of  degradation.  Not 
even  on  the  theory  which  some  hold,  that  the  human  species 
has  spread  from  more  than  one  centre  of  birth  or  of  creation, 
can  this  conclusion  be  affected.  For  even  on  this  hypothesis 
of  separate  origins,  there  is  no  reason  whatever  to  suppose  that 
the  races  which  are  now  generally  civilized  are  of  more  recent 
origin  than  those  which  are  generally  savage.  Presumably, 
therefore,  all  the  ages  which  have  been  at  work  in  the  develop- 
ment of  Civilization  have  been  at  work  equally  in  the  develop- 
ment of  Savagery.  It  is  not  possible  in  the  case  of  Savagery, 
any  more  than  in  the  case  of  Civilization,  that  all  those  ages 
have  been  without  effect.  Nor  is  it  possible  that  the  changes 
they  have  wrought  have  been  all  in  one  direction.  The  con- 
clusion is,  that  neither  Savagery  nor  Civilization,  as  we  now 
see  them,  can  represent  the  primeval  condition  of  Man.  Both 
of  them  are  the  work  of  time.  Both  of  them  are  the  product  of 
Evolution. 

When,  however,  this  conclusion  has  been  reached,  we 
naturally  seek  for  some  understanding — some  definite  concep- 
tion— of  the  circumstances  and  conditions  under  which  De- 
velopment in  Man  has  taken  a  wrong  direction.  No  similar 
explanation  is  required  of  the  origin  of  Civilization.  This  is 
the  development  of  Man's  powers  in  the  natural  direction. 
Great  interest,  indeed,  attaches  to  the  steps  by  which  knowl- 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF   MAN.  233 

edge  has  been  increased,  and  by  which  invention  has  been 
added  to  invention.  But  there  is  no  mystery  to  be  encountered 
here — no  dark  or  distressing  problem  to  be  solved.  This  kind 
and  direction  of  development  is  all  according  to  the  constitution 
and  course  of  things.  It  is  in  harmony  with  all  the  analogies 
of  Creation.  Very  different  is  the  sense  of  painful  wonder 
with  which  we  seek  an  explanation  of  the  wretched  condition  of 
Man  in  many  regions  of  the  Globe,  and,  still  more,  with  which 
we  seek  the  origin  or  the  cause  of  all  the  hideous  customs 
which  are  everywhere  prevalent  among  savage  men,  and  which 
often,  in  their  ingenuity  of  evil,  and  in  the  sweep  of  their  de- 
structive force,  leave  it  a  wonder  that  the  race  survives  at  all. 

There  are,  however,  some  considerations,  and  some  facts,  on 
which  we  may  very  safely  advance  at  least  a  few  steps  towards 
the  explanation  we  desire.  Two  great  causes  of  change,  two 
great  elements  of  Development  or  Evolution,  have  been  speci- 
fied above — namely,  the  external  conditions  and  the  internal 
nature  of  Man.  Let  us  look  at  them  for  a  little  separately,  in 
so  far  as  they  can  be  separated  at  all.* 

It  is  certain  that  external  or  physical  conditions  have  a  very 
powerful,  and  sometimes  a  very  rapid,  effect  both  on  the  body 
and  on  the  mind  of  Man.  The  operation  of  this  law  has  been 
seen  and  noted  even  in  the  midst  of  the  most  highly  civilized 
communities.  There  are  kinds  of  labor  which  have  been  found 
to  exert  a  rapid  influence  in  degrading  the  human  frame,  and 
in  deteriorating  the  human  character.  So  marked  has  been 
this  effect,  that  it  has  commanded  the  attention  of  Parliaments, 
and  the  course  of  Legislation  has  been  turned  aside  to  meet 
the  dangers  it  involved.  Moreover,  our  experience  in  this  mat- 
ter has  been  very  various.  Different  kinds  of  employment,  in- 
volving different  kinds  of  unfavorable  influence,  have  each 
tended  to  develop  its  own  kind  of  mischief,  and  to  establish  its 
own  type  of  degradation.  The  particular  conditions  which  are 
unfavorable  may  be  infinitely  various.  The  evils  which  arise 
out  of  the  abuses  of  civilized  life  can  never  be  identical  with  the 
evils  to  which  the  earlier  races  of  Mankind  may  have  been  ex- 

*  The  argument  which  follows  was  urged  in  a.  former  work  on  "  Primeval  Man."  It 
has  been  here  re-written  and*  re  -considered  with  reference  to  various  objections  and  re- 
plies. 


234  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

posed.  But  the  power  of  external  conditions  in  modifying  the 
form,  and  in  moulding  the  character  of  men,  is  stamped  as  a 
general  law  of  universal  application. 

In  connection  with  this  law,  the  first  great  fact  which  calls  for 
our  attention  is  the  actual  distribution  of  Mankind  in  relation 
to  the  Physical  Geography  of  the  Globe.  That  distribution  is 
nearly  universal.  From  the  earliest  times  when  civilized  men 
began  to  explore  distant  regions,  they  found  everywhere  other 
races  of  men  already  established.  And  this  has  held  true  down 
to  the  latest  acquisitions  of  discovery.  When  the  New  World 
was  discovered  by  Columbus,  he  found  that  it  must  have  been 
a  very  old  world  indeed  to  the  human  species.  Not  only  every 
great  Continent,  but,  with  rare  exceptions,  even  every  habitable 
Island,  has  been  found  peopled  by  the  genus  HOMO.  The  ex- 
plorers might  find,  and  in  many  cases  did  actually  find,  every- 
thing else  in  Nature  different  from  the  country  of  their  birth. 
Not  a  beast,  or  bird,  or  plant, — not  an  insect,  or  a  reptile,  or  a 
fish,  might  be  the  same  as  those  of  which  they  had  any  previous 
knowledge.  The  whole  face  of  Nature  might  be  new  and 
strange — but  always  with  this  one  solitary  exception,  that  every- 
where Man  was  compelled  to  recognize  himself — represented, 
indeed,  often  by  people  of  strange  aspect  and  of  strange  speech, 
but  by  people  nevertheless  exhibiting  all  the  unmistakable 
characters  of  the  human  race. 

In  ancient  times,  before  the  birth  of  physical  science,  this 
fact  might  not  appear  so  singular  and  exceptional  as  it  really 
is.  Before  Man  had  begun  to  form  any  definite  conceptions  as 
to  his  own  origin,  or  as  to  his  place  in  Nature,  it  was  easy  to 
suppose  in  some  vague  way  that  the  inhabitants  of  distant  re- 
gions were  "  Aborigines,"  or,  as  the  Greeks  called  them,  "  Au- 
tocthonoi  " — that  they  were  somehow  native  to  the  soil,  and 
had  sprung  from  it.  But  this  conception  belongs  essentially  to 
that  stage  and  time  when  tradition  has  been  lost,  and  before 
reasoning  has  begun.  Those  who  refuse  to  accept  the  Jewish 
Scriptures  as  in  any  sense  authoritative,  must  at  least  recognize 
them  as  the  records  of  a  very  ancient  and  a  very  sublime 
Cosmogony.  That  Cosmogony  rests  upon  these  four  leading 
ideas — first,  that  the  Globe  has  been  brought  to  its  present 
condition  through  Days  of  Change  ;  secondly,  that  from  a  state 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF   MAN.  235 

which  can  only  be  described  as  Chaos,  it  came  to  be  divided 
into  Sea,  and  Land,  and  Atmosphere  ;  thirdly,  that  the  lower 
animals  were  born  first, — Man  being  the  last  as  he  is  the  high- 
est product  of  Creation  ;  fourthly,  that  he  appeared  first  at 
one  place  only  in  the  world,  and  that  from  one  pair  has  all  the 
Earth  been  overspread. 

It  is  remarkable  that  in  this  general  outline  of  events,  and  es- 
pecially in  the  unity  of  Man's  origin,  the  progress  of  discovery, 
and   those   later   speculations   which  have   outrun   discovery, 
are  in  strict  accordance  with  the  tradition  recorded  by  the  Jew- 
ish Prophets.    There  are,  indeed,  some  scientific  men  who  think 
that  different  races  of  men   represent  different  species — or,  at 
least,  that  if  Man  be  defined  as  one  species,  it  is  a  species  which 
has  spread  from  more  than  one  place  of  origin.     But  those  who 
hold  to  this  idea  are  men  who  stand  outside  the  general  current 
of  scientific  thought.     The  tendency  of  that  thought  is  more  and 
more  to  demand  unity  and  simplicity  in  our  conception  of  the 
Methods  of  Creation,  and  of  the  order  of  events  through  which 
the  birth  of  Species   has  been  brought  about.     So  strong   is 
this  tendency,  and  so  intimately  connected  is  it  with  the  intel- 
lectual conceptions  on  which  the  modern  theory  of  Develop- 
ment has  been  founded,  that  Mr.  Darwin  himself,  and  Mr.  Wal- 
lace, who  may  be  said   to   be  joint-author  with  him   of  that 
theory,  both  lay  it  down  as  a  fundamental  postulate,  that  each 
new  Organic  Form  has  originated,  and  could  only  originate,  at 
one  place.     This  doctrine  is  by  no  means  a  necessity  of  thought, 
nor  is  it  a  necessary  consequence  of  the  theory  of  Development. 
It  rests  mainly  on  the  doctrine  of  chances,*  and  that  doctrine 
may  be  wholly  inapplicable  to  events  which  are  governed  not  by 
accident  but  by  Law.      It  is,  however,  a  postulate  of  the  par- 
ticular form  of  that  theory  which  Mr.  Darwin  has  adopted.     It 
is  not  always  easy  to  reconcile  this  postulate  with   the  existing 
distribution  over  the  Globe  of  animal  Forms.     But  it  is  not  ab- 
solutely inconsistent  with  the  facts  so  far  as  we  know  them  ; 
and  it  is  interesting  to  observe  how  universally  and  tacitly  it  is  as- 
sumed in  all  the  current  explanations  of  the  history  of  Creation. 

*  In  this  passage  I  rely  on  aprivate  letter  to  myself  from  Mr.  Darwin,  in  which  he 
rested  the  conclusion  referred  to  upon  the  chances  against  the  same  Form  becoming 
developed  in  more  places  than  one. 


0    *JUUTL-X_^ 

"4*Mil/lta*IiMM^ 


On  this  point,  therefore,  of  the  unity  of  Man's  origin,  those  who 
bow  to  the  authority  of  the  most  ancient  and  the  most  vener- 
able of  traditions,  and  those  who  accept  the  most  imposing  and 
the  most  popular  of  modern  scientific  theories,  are  found  stand- 
ing on  common  ground,  and  accepting  the  same  result. 

And  when  we  come  to  consider  a  very  curious  subject, 
namely,  the  configuration  of  the  habitable  Continents  6f  the 
Globe,  we  find  that  this  configuration  stands  in  a  very  intelligi- 
ble relation  to  the  dispersion  of  Mankind  from  a  single  centre. 
If,  indeed,  we  could  suppose  that  the  earliest  condition  of  our 
race  was  a  condition  of  advanced  knowledge  in  the  useful  arts, 
there  would  be  no  difficulty  to  solve.  The  great  Oceans  of  the 
world  are  now  the  easiest  highways  of  travel  and  consequently 
of  dispersion.  The  art  and  the  science  of  navigation  has  made 
them  so.  But  we  cannot  imagine  that  this  art  or  this  science 
was  known  to  our  forefathers  of  a  very  early  age>-  Various 
means  of  crossing  narrow  waters,  from  the  use  of  solid  logs  of 
wood  to  the  use  of  the  same  logs  when  hollowed  out,  and  so  to 
the  use  of  canoes  and  boats,  were  in  all  probability  among 
the  very  earliest  of  human  inventions.  But  not  the  less  would 
it  have  been  impossible  with  these  inventions  to  cross  the  At-/, 
lantic,  or  the  Pacific,  or  the  Indian  Ocean,  or  even  many  of  the 
more  limited  tracts  of  Sea  which  now  separate  so  many  habit- 
able regions.  Some  other  solution  must  be  found  for  the  prob- 
lem presented  by  the  fact  that  the  earliest  navigators  who  tra- 
versed those  Seas  and  Oceans,  have  always  found  the  lands  on 
the  other  side  already  colonized,  and  in  some  cases  thickly  in- 
habited by  races  and  nations  which  had  made  considerable  ad- 
vances in  civilization.  Yet,  this  problem  presents  no  serious 
difficulty  in  accepting  the  unity  of  the  human  race,  when  it  is 
regarded  in  the  light  of  Physical  Geography. 

The  distribution  of  the  larger  tracts  of  Land  and  Sea  upon 
our  Planet  is  very  singular  indeed.  Attached  to  the  southern 
Pole  there  is  no  mass  of  Land  which  stretches  so  far  north  as 
to  enter  the  latitudes  which  are  even  moderately  temperate. 
In  the  centre  of  the  Antarctic  Circle  there  is  probably  a  great 
Continent.  But  it  is  a  Continent  where  volcanic  fires  burst 
here  and  there  through  surfaces  which  are  bound  in  perpetual 
ice.  Round  that  vast  Circle  roll  the  continuous  waves  of  an 


/ 


ON    THE   DEGRADATION    OF    MAN.  237 

Ocean  vexed  by  furious  storms,  and  laden  with  the  gigantic 
wrecks  of  immeasurable  fields  and  cliffs  of  ice.  In  the  north- 
ern  hemisphere,  round  the  Arctic  Circle,  on  the  contrary,  every- 
thing is  different.  There  Land-masses  begin,  which  stretch 
southward  without  a  break  through  all  the  temperate  and 
through  all  the  torrid  zones  on  both  sides  of  the  Equator. 
Then,  again,  all  these  great  Continents  of  the  Globe,  as  they 
extend  towards  the  south,  become  narrower  and  narrower,  and 
so  tend  to  become  more  and  more  widely  separated  from  each 
other  by  vast  oceanic  spaces.  Towards  the  north,  on  the  con- 
trary, all  these  Continents  converge,  and  at  one  point,  Beh- 
ring's  Straits,  they  approach  so  near  each  other,  that  only  a 
space  of  some  forty  miles  of  sea  intervenes  betwreen  them. 
The  result  is,  that  in  the  northern  hemisphere  there  is  either  a 
continued  connection  by  land,  or  a  connection  severed  only  by 
comparatively  narrow  channels,  between  all  the  great  inhabited 
Continents  of  the  world.  The  consequences  of  this,  as  bearing 
on  the  dispersion  of  Mankind,  are  obvious  at  a  glance.  If,  for 
example,  Man  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  born  in  any  part 
of  Western  or  Central  Asia,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  his  earliest 
migrations  might  lead  him  without  serious  difficulty  into  every 
one  of  the  lands  in  which  his  children  have  been  actually 
found.  The  Indian  Peninsula  was  at  his  feet.  A  natural 
bridge,  as  it  were,  would  enable  him  to  penetrate  the  Arabian 
deserts,  and  would  conduct  him  by  the  glorious  valley  of  the 
Nile  into  the  heart  of  the  Continent  of  Africa.  Eastwards  he 
had  before  him  the  fertile  tracts  of  China,  and  beyond  the  nar- 
row passage  of  Behring's  Straits  lay  that  vast  Continent 
which,  when  re-discovered  from  the  West,  was  called  the  New 
World.  Again,  beyond  the  southern  spurs  of  the  great  Asiatic 
Continent  there  lay  an  Archipelago  of  magnificent  Islands,  with 
comparatively  narrow  Seas  between  them,  and  connected  by  a 
continuous  chain  with  the  continental  Islands  of  Australasia. 
The  seafaring  habits  which  would  spring  up  among  an  insular 
population, — especially  in  an  Archipelago  where  every  volcanic 
cone  and  every  coral  reef  rising  above  the  waves  was  rich  in 
the  products  of  a  bounteous  vegetation, — would  soon  lead  to  a 
rapid  development  of  the  arts  of  navigation.  When  these  were 
once  acquired,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  accounting  for  the  grad- 


238  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

ual  dispersion  of  the  human  race  among  the  beautiful  Islands 
of  the  Pacific.  Across  its  comparatively  peaceful  waters  it  is 
not  improbable  that  even  rude  navigators  may  have  made  their 
way  at  various  times  to  people  the  western  shores  of  the  Conti- 
nent of  America. 

It  is  true  indeed  that  the  science  of  Geology  teaches  us  that 
the  distribution  of  Sea  and  Land  has  been  immensely  various 
in  different  epochs  of  the  unmeasured  ages  which  have  been  oc- 
cupied in  the  formation  of  our  existing  world.  And  it  may  be 
urged  from  this  that  no  argument  on  the  methods  of  dispersion 
can  be  based  with  safety  upon  that  distribution  as  it  now  is. 
There  is  not  much  force,  however,  in  this  plea.  For  it  is 
equally  true  that  the  evidence  afforded  by  Geology  is  in  favor 
of  the  very  great  antiquity  of  the  principal  Land-masses,  and 
of  the  great  Oceanic  hollows  which  now  divide  them.  The  an- 
tiquity of  these  is  almost  certainly  much  greater  than  the  antiq- 
uity of  Man.  The  fauna  and  the  flora  of  the  principal  Con- 
tinents indicate  them  to  have  been  separated  since  a  period  in 
the  development,  or  in  the  creation  of  Species,  long  anterior  to 
any  probable  estimate  of  the  time  of  Man's  appearance.  Even  if 
that  appearance  dates  from  the  Miocene  epoch  in  Geology, — 
which  is  an  extreme  supposition, — no  great  difference  in  the 
problem  of  the  dispersion  of  our  species  would  arise.  Since 
that  time  indeed  it  is  certain  that  great  subsidences  and  eleva- 
tions of  land  have  taken  place.  But  although  these  changes 
have  greatly  altered  the  outlines  of  Sea  and  Land  along  the 
shores  of  Europe  and  of  America,  there  is  no  reason  to  believe 
that  they  could  have  materially  affected,  either  injuriously  or 
otherwise,  the  earlier  migrations  of  Mankind. 

But  although  the  peculiar  Physical  Geography  of  the  Globe 
makes  it  easy  to  understand  how,  from  a  single  centre,  it  must 
have  been  quite  possible  for  a  creature  with  the  peculiar  powers 
and  faculties  of  Man  to  distribute  himself,  as  he  has  actually 
been  found  distributed  over  every  habitable  region  of  the  world, 
it  is  most  important  to  observe  the  very  adverse  conditions  to 
which,  in  the  course  of  this  distribution,  particular  portions  of 
the  human  family  must  have  been,  and  to  which  we  do  now  find 
them  actually  exposed. 

The  "  New  World  " — the  American  Continent— is  that  which 


ON    THE   DEGRADATION    OF    MAN.  239 

presents  the  most  uninterrupted  stretch  of  habitable  land  from 
the  highest  northern  to  the  lowest  southern  latitude.  No  part 
of  it  was  without  human  inhabitants  when  the  civilized  children 
of  the  Old  World  first  came  upon  it,  and  when,  from  its  moun- 
tain tops,  they  first  "  stared  on  the  Pacific."  On  its  extreme 
north  there  was  the  Eskimo  or  Inuit  race,  maintaining  human  life 
under  conditions  of  extremest  hardship,  even  amid  the  perpetual 
ice  of  the  Polar  regions.  On  the  extreme  south — at  the  opposite 
extremity  of  the  great  American  Continent — there  were  the  in- 
habitants of  Cape  Horn  and  of  the  Island  off  it,  both  of  which 
project  their  desolate  rocks  into  another  of  the  most  inhospitable 
climates  of  the  world.  Let  us  take  this  case  first — because  it  is 
a  typical  one,  and  because  it  happens  that  we  have  from  a  mas- 
terhand  a  description  of  these  people,  and  a  suggestion  of  the 
questions  which  they  raise.  The  natives  of  Tierra  del  Fuego 
are  one  of  the  most  degraded  among  the  races  of  Mankind. 
How  could  they  be  otherwise  ?  "  Their  country,"  says  Mr. 
Darwin,  "  is  a  broken  mass  of  wild  rocks,  lofty  hills,  and  use- 
less forests  ;  and  these  are  viewed  through  mists  and  endless 
storms.  The  habitable  land  is  reduced  to  the  stones  of  the 
beach.  In  search  of  food  they  are  compelled  to  wander  un- 
ceasingly from  spot  to  spot ;  and  so  steep  is  the  coast  that  they 
can  only  move  about  in  their  wretched  canoes."  They  are 
habitual  cannibals,  killing  and  eating  their  old  women  before 
they  kill  their  dogs,  for  the  sufficient  reason,  as  explained  by 
themselves,  "  Doggies  catch  others  :  old  women,  no."  Of  some 
of  those  people  who  came  round  the  Beagle  in  their  canoes  the 
same  author  says  :  "  These  were  the  most  wretched  and  miser- 
able creatures  I  anywhere  beheld.  They  were  quite  naked, 
and  even  one  full-grown  woman  was  absolutely  so.  It  was 
raining  heavily,  and  the  fresh  water,  together  with  the  spray, 
trickled  down  her  body.  In  another  harbor  not  far  distant,  a 
woman  who  was  suckling  a  new-born  child,  came  one  day  along- 
side the  vessel  and  remained  there  out  of  mere  curiosity,  whilst 
the  sleet  fell  and  thawed  on  her  naked  bosom,  and  on  the  skin 
of  her  naked  baby.  These  poor  wretches  were  stunted  in  their 
growth,  their  hideous  faces  bedaubed  with  white  paint,  their 
skins  filthy  and  greasy,  their  hair  entangled,  their  voices  dis- 
cordant, and  their  gestures  violent.  Viewing  such  men,  one 


240  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

can  hardly  make  one's  self  believe  that  they  are  fellow-creatures 
and  inhabitants  of  the  same  world."  Such  are  the  facts,  or  one 
aspect  of  the  facts,  connected  with  this  people.  But  there  are 
other  facts,  or  another  aspect  of  the  same  facts,  not  less  impor- 
tant which  we  have  on  the  same  evidence.  Beneath  this  crust 
of  Savagery  lay  all  the  perfect  attributes  of  Humanity — ready 
to  be  developed  the  moment  the  unfavorable  conditions  of  Fue- 
gian  life  were  exchanged  for  conditions  which  were  different. 
Captain  Fitzroy  had,  in  1830,  carried  off  some  of  these  poor 
people  to  England,  where  they  were  taught  the  arts  and  the 
habits  of  Civilization.  Of  one  of  those  who  was  taken  back  to 
his  own  country  in  the  Beagle,  Mr.  Darwin  tells  us  that "  his  in- 
tellect was  good,"  and  of  another  that  he  had  a  "  nice  disposi- 
tion." 

Let  us  look  now  at  the  questions  which  the  low  condition 
of  the  Fuegians  suggests  to  Mr.  Darwin.  "  Whilst  beholding 
these  Savages,  one  asks  whence  have  they  come  ?  What  could 
have  tempted,  or  what  change  compelled,  a  tribe  of  men  to 
leave  the  fine  regions  of  the  north,  to  travel  down  the  Cordillera 
or  backbone  of  America,  to  invent  and  build  canoes  which  are 
not  used  by  the  tribes  of  Chili,  Peru,  and  Brazil,  and  then  to 
enter  one  of  the  most  inhospitable  countries  within  the  limits  of 
the  Globe  ?  " 

These  questions  of  Mr.  Darwin,  it  will  be  observed,  assume 
that  Man  is  not  indigenous  in  Tierra  del  Fuego.  They  assume 
that  he  has  come  from  elsewhere  into  that  savage  country. 
They  assume  farther  that  his  access  to  it  has  been  by  land. 
They  assume  that  the  progenitors  of  the  Fuegians  who  first  came 
there  were  not  skilled  navigators  like  the  crew  of  the  Beagle, 
able  to  traverse  the  Atlantic  or  the  Pacific  in  their  widest  and 
stormiest  expanse.  These  assumptions  are  surely  safe.  But 
these  being  accepted,  it  follows  that  the  ancestors  of  the  Fue- 
gians must  have  come  from  the  North,  and  must  have  passed 
down  the  whole  length,  or  a  great  part  of  the  length,  of  the 
American  Continent.  In  other  words,  they  must  have  come 
from  regions  which  are  highly  favored  into  regions  of  extremest 
rigor.  If  external  circumstances  have  any  influence  upon  the 
condition  of  Man,  this  great  change  cannot  have  been  without 
effect.  Accordingly,  Mr.  Darwin  at  once,  instinctively  as  it 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF    MAN.  241 

were,   connects  the  utter   savagery  of   the  Fuegians  with   the 
wretched  conditions  of  their  present  home.     "  How  little,"  he 
says,    "can    the  higher  powers  of  the   mind  be  brought  into 
play  !     What  is  there  for  imagination  to  picture,  for  reason  to 
compare,  for  judgment  to  decide  upon."     It  is  in  perfect  accord- 
ance with   this  view  that  on  every  side  of  them,  and  in  propor- 
tion as  we  pass  northwards  from  their  wretched  country,  we 
find  that  the  tribes  of  South  America  are  less  wretched,   and 
better  acquainted  with  the  simpler  arts.     None  of  the  depress- 
ing and  stupefying  conditions  which  attach  to  the  present  home 
of  the  Fuegians  can  be  alleged  of  the  regions  in  which  some 
distant  ancestors  of  the  Fuegians  must  have  lived.     In  Chili,  in 
Peru,  in  Brazil,  in  Mexico,  there  are  boundless  tracts  in  which 
every  condition  of  nature,  soil,  climate,  and  productions,  are 
comparatively  as  favorable  to  men  as  they  are  unfavorable  on 
the  desolate  shores  of  Cape  Horn  and  Tierra  del  Fuego.     Yet 
one   or  other  of  these  many  well-favored  regions   must  have 
been  on  the  line  of  march  by  which  the  Fuegian  shores  were 
reached.     One  and  all  of  them  present  attractions  which  must 
have  induced  a  long  encampment,  and  must  have  made  them 
the  home  of  many  generations.     Why  was  that  march  ever  re- 
sumed in  a  direction  so  uninviting  and  pursued  to  a  destination 
so  desolate  and  so  miserable  ? 

But  the  moment  we  come  to  ask  this  question  in  respect  to 
the  Fuegians,  we  find  that  it  is  a  question  which  arises  equally 
out  of  the  position  and  life  of  many  other  portions  of  the  human 
family.  The  northern  extremity  of  the  American  Continent 
presents  exactly  the  same  problem  as  the  southern.  If  it  is  im- 
possible to  suppose  that  Man  was  first  created,  or  born,  or  de- 
veloped in  Tierra  del  Fuego,  it  is  not  less  impossible  to  suppose 
that  he  made  his  first  appearance  on  the  frozen  shores  of  Baf- 
fin's Bay.  Watching  at  the  blow-hole  of  a  Seal  for  many  hours 
in  a  temperature  of  75°  below  the  freezing  point,  is  the  con- 
stant work  of  the  Inuit  hunter.  And  when  at  last  his  prey  is 
struck,  it  is  his  greatest  luxury  to  feast  upon  the  raw  blood  and 
blubber.  To  civilized  Man  it  is  hardly  possible  to  conceive  a 
life  so  wretched,  and  in  some  aspects  at  least  so  brutal,  ,as  the 
life  led  by  this  race  during  the  continual  night  of  the  Arctic 
winter.  Not  even  the  most  extravagant  theorist  as  regards  the 
16 


242  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

possible  plurality  of  human  origins  can  believe  that  there  was 
a  separate  Eskimo  Adam.     Man,  therefore,  is  as  certainly  an 
immigrant  into  the  dreary  regions  round  the  Pole   as  he   is  an 
immigrant  into  the  desolations  of  Cape  Horn.     But  the  whole 
conditions  of  his  life  there  are  necessarily  determined  by  the 
rigors  of  the  climate.     They  are  conditions  in  which  Civiliza- 
tion, as  it  has  been  here  defined,  is  impossible.     And  the  im- 
portance of  that  definition  is  singularly  apparent  in  the  case  of 
the  Eskimo.     Although  essentially  uncivilized,  he  is  not,  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  a  Savage.     Many  of  the  character- 
istics usually  associated  with  that  word  are  altogether  wanting 
in  the  Eskimo.     They  are  a  gentle,  inoffensive,  hospitable,  and 
truthful  race.     They  are  therefore  a  conspicuous  example  of  the 
fallacy  of  supposing  that  there  is  any  necessary  connection 
between  a  backward  condition  of  knowledge  in  the  useful  arts, 
and  violent  dispositions,  or  ferocious  and  cruel  habits.     Men 
are  not  necessarily  savage  because  they  may  use  flint  hatchets, 
or  because  they  may  point  their  arrows  and  their  spears  with 
bone.     Nevertheless,  the  condition  of  the  Eskimo,  although  not 
savage,  is  almost  the  type  of  the  merely  uncivilized  condition  of 
Mankind.     It  is  a  condition  in  which  not  more  than  a  few  fam- 
ilies can  ever  live  together,  and  in  which  therefore  large  com- 
munities cannot  be  formed.     A  few  simple  and  some  very  curi- 
ous rules  of  ownership  are  all  that  can  represent  among  them 
the  great  lawgiving  instinct  which  lives  in   Man.     Agriculture 
cannot  be  practised,  nor  even  the  pasturing  of  flocks  and  herds. 
Without  fuel,  beyond  the  oil  which  feeds  their  feeble  lamps,  or 
a  few  stray  logs  of  drift  timber,  the  Eskimo  can  have  no  access 
to  the  metals,  which  in  such  a  country  could  not  be  reduced 
from  their  ores,  even  if  these  ores  were  themselves  obtainable. 
The  useful  arts  are,  therefore,  strictly  limited  to  the  devising 
and  making  of  canoes  and  of  weapons  of   the  chase.     There  is 
no  domestic  animal  except  the  Dog ;  and  Dogs,  too,  like  their 
masters,  must  have  been  brought  from  elsewhere.     These  are 
all   conditions  which  exclude  the   first   elements  of  what  we 
understand  by  Civilization.     But  every  one  of  these  conditions 
must  have  been  different  with  the  progenitors   of  the   Eskimo. 
If  they  were  immigrants  into  the  regions  within  the  Arctic  Cir 
cle,  they  must  have  come  from  the  more  temperate  regions  of 


ON    THE   DEGRADATION    OF    MAN.  243 

the  South.  They  must  have  been  surrounded  there  by  all  the 
natural  advantages  of  which  their  descendants  are  now  de- 
prived. To  what  extent  these  ancestors  of  the  Eskimo  may 
have  profited  by  their  very  different  and  more  favored  position, 
we  cannot  know.  They  may  have  practised  such  simple  agri- 
culture as  was  practised  by  the  most  ancient  races  which  have 
left  their  traces  in  the  Swiss  Lake  dwellings.  They  may  have 
been  nomads,  living  on  their  flocks  and  herds,  as  the  Lapland- 
ers and  Siberians  actually  are  who  in  the  Old  World  live  in 
latitudes  only  a  little  farther  South.  They  may  have  been  peo- 
ple who,  like  the  ancient  but  unknown  Mound-builders  in  the 
Southern  and  Western  States  of  America,  had  developed  a  com- 
paratively high  civilization.  But  one  thing  is  certain,  that  they 
must  have  lived  a  life  wholly  different  from  the  life  of  the  Eski- 
mo, and  that  they  must  have  had  completely  different  habits. 
Whatever  arts  the  fathers  knew,  suited  to  more  genial  climates, 
could  not  fail  to  be  forgotten  by  the  children,  in  a  country 
where  the  practice  of  them  was  impossible. 

The  same  question,  therefore,  which  Darwin  asks  in  respect 
to  the  inhabitants  of  the  extreme  south  of  the  American  Con- 
tinent, arises  in  respect  to  the  inhabitants  of  its  extreme  north 
— What  can  have  induced  any  people  to  travel  along  that 
Continent  in  a  direction  more  and  more  inhospitable,  and  at 
last  to  settle  in  a  country  where  nearly  one-half  the  year  is 
night,  and  where,  even  during  the  short  summer,  both  Sea  and 
Land  are  mainly  occupied  by  ice  and  snow  ? 

But,  again,  we  are  reminded  that  there  are  other  cases  of  a 
similar  kind.  The  African  Continent  does  not  extend  so  far 
south  as  to  reach  a  severe  southern  latitude.  In  that  Conti- 
nent, accordingly,  beyond  the  frequent  occurrence  of  deserts, 
there  is  nothing  seriously  to  impede  the  migrations  of  Man 
from  its  northern  towards  its  southern  extremity  ;  nor  is  there 
anything  there  to  subject  them  when  they  had  reached  it  to 
the  worst  conditions.  Accordingly  we  do  not  find  that  the  pre- 
dominant native  races  of  Southern  Africa  rank  low  in  the  scale 
of  humanity.  Those  among  them,  however,  which  are  or  were 
the  lowest  in  that  scale,  were  precisely  those  who  occupied  the 
most  unfavorable  portion  of  the  country  and  are  known  as 
Bushmen.  Of  these  it  is  well  ascertained  that  they  are  not  a 


244  1HE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

distinct  race,  but  of  kindred  origin  with  the  Hottentots,  who 
were  by  no  means  so  degraded.  On  the  whole,  therefore,  the 
question  how  men  could  ever  have  been  induced  to  live  where 
we  actually  find  them,  does  not  press  for  an  answer  so  much  in 
respect  to  any  part  of  the  Continent  of  Africa,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  tribes  whose  present  habitat  is  exceptionally  un- 
favorable. 

There  is,  however,  another  case  of  difficulty  in  respect  to  the 
distribution  of  Mankind,  which  in  some  respects  is  even  more 
remarkable  than  the  case  of  the  Fuegians,  or  the  case  of  the 
Eskimo.  We  have  seen  that  the  great  Asiatic  Continent,  though 
it  does  not  itself  extend  beyond  latitudes  which  are  favorable 
to  human  settlement,  is  practically  prolonged  through  a  con- 
tinuous chain  of  Islands  into  the  regions  of  Australasia.  Every 
part  of  those  regions  was  found  to  be  inhabited  when  they 
were  discovered  by  civilized  Man ;  and  it  is  universally  ad- 
mitted that  the  natives  of  Australia,  and  the  natives  of  Tas- 
mania, are  or  were  (for  the  Tasmanians  are  now  extinct) 
among  the  very  lowest  of  all  the  families  of  Man.  Now  the 
physical  conditions  of  the  great  Islands  of  Australasia  are  in 
many  respects  the  most  remarkable  on  the  surface  of  the 
Globe.  Their  peculiar  fauna  and  flora  prove  them  to  be  of 
great  antiquity  as  Islands  in  the  geological  history  of  the 
Earth.  That  is  to  say — their  beasts,  and  their  birds,  and  their 
vegetation  are  so  widely  separate  from  those  of  all  other  re- 
gions, that  during  long*  ages  of  the  total  time  which  has  elapsed 
since  they  first  appeared  above  the  Ocean,  they  must  have 
been  as  separate  as  they  are  now  from  all  other  habitable 
lands.  Their  beasts  are,  indeed,  related — closely  related — to 
Forms  which  have  existed  during  certain  epochs  in  many  other 
portions  of  the  Earth's  surface.  But  those  epochs  are  so  dis- 
tant, that  we  are  carried  back  in  our  search  for  creatures  like 
them  to  the  times  of  the  Secondary  Rocks — to  the  horizon  of 
the  Oolite. 

Speaking  of  the  poverty  and  of  the  extremely  isolated  char- 
acter of  the  Australian  Mammalia,  Mr.  Wallace  says :  "  This 
class  affords  us  the  most  certain  proofs  that  no  part  of  the 
country  has  been  united  to  the  Asiatic  continent  since  the 


245 

latter  part  of  the  Mesozoic  period  of  geology."  *  Of  the  vast 
series  of  creatures  which  elsewhere  have  been  created,  or  born, 
or  developed,  since  that  epoch,  including  all  the  higher  mem- 
bers of  the  Mammalian  Class,  not  one  existed  in  Australasia 
until  they  were  introduced  by  Europeans.  Among  the  grasses 
there  were  none  which  by  cultivation  could  be  developed  into 
Cereals.  Among  the  beasts  there  was  not  one  which  was 
capable  of  domestication.  There  were  no  Apes  or  Monkeys ; 
no  Oxen,  Antelopes,  or  Deer ;  no  Elephants,  Rhinoceroses,  or 
Pigs  ;  no  Cats,  WTolves,  or  Bears ;  none  even  of  the  smaller 
Civets  or  Weasels ;  no  Hedgehogs  or  Shrews ;  no  Hares, 
Squirrels,  or  Porcupines,  or  Dormice."  t  There  was  not  even 
a  native  Dog ;  and  the  only  approach  to,  or  representative  of, 
that  wonderful  animal,  was  a  low  Marsupial  beast,  which  is  a 
mere  biting  machine,  incapable  of  affection  for  a  master,  and 
incapable  even  of  recognizing  the  hand  that  feeds  it.  In  the 
whole  of  Australia,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  Mice,  there  was 
not  one  single  Mammal  which  did  not  belong  to  this  low  Mar- 
supial Class,  whilst  some  others  belonged  to  a  class  still  lower 
in  the  scale  of  organization,  the  class  called  Monotremita. 
Strange  Forms  astonished  our  first  explorers,  such  as  the  Or- 
nithorhynchus  and  the  Echidna — Forms  which  combined  feat- 
ures elsewhere  widely  separated  in  the  animal  kingdom — the 
bills  of  Birds,  the  spines  of  Porcupines,  the  fur  of  Otters,  and 
the  feet  of  Moles.  Nothing  analogous  to  these  relics  of  an  ex- 
tinct fauna  had  been  known  to  survive  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world. 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  this  strange  assemblage  of  creatures, 
without  any  representative  of  the  animals  which  elsewhere  sur- 
round him,  the  familiar  Form  of  Man  was  found,  low,  indeed, 
in  his  condition,  but  with  all  the  inalienable  characteristics  of 
his  race.  It  is  true,  that  everywhere  the  gap  which  separates 
Man  from  the  lower  animals  is  enormous.  Nothing  bridges,  or 
comes  near  to  bridging  it.  It  is  a  gap  which  has  been  well 
called  a  gulf.  But  in  Australasia  the  breadth  and  depth  of 
this  gulf  is  rendered  more  conspicuous  by  the  association  of 
Man  with  a  series  of  animals  absolutely  wanting  in  those  higher 

*  "  Australasia,"  by  Alfred  R.  Wallace,  p.  51. 


^a 


: 


246  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

members  of  the  Mammalian  Class  which  elsewhere  minister  to 
his  wants,  and  the  use  of  which  is  among  the  first  elements  of 
a  civilized  condition.  Alone  everywhere,  and  separate  from 
other  Beings,  Man  is  most  conspicuously  alone  in  those  strange 
and  distant  lands  where  his  high  Organization  is  in  contact 
with  nothing  nearer  to  itself  than  the  low  Marsupial  brain. 

To  those  who  connect  the  origin  of  Man  with  the  theory  of 
Development  or  Evolution,  in  any  shape  or  in  any  form,  these 
peculiar  circumstances  respecting  the  fauna  of  Australasia  in- 
dicate beyond  all  doubt  that  Man  is  not  there  indigenous. 
They  stamp  him  as  an  immigrant  in  those  regions — a  wanderer 
from  other  lands.  Nor  will  this  conclusion  be  less  assuredly 
held  by  those  who  believe  that  in  some  special  sense  Man  has 
been  created.  There  is  something  more  than  an  incongruity 
in  supposing  that  there  was  a  separate  Tasmanian  Adam.  (^The 
belief  that  the  creation  of  Man  has  been  a  special  work  is_not 
inconsistent  with  the  belief  that  in  the  time,  and  in  the  circum- 
stances, and  in  the  method  of  this  work,  it  had  a  definite  rela- 
tion to  the  previous  course  and  history  of  Creation — so  that 
Man  did  not  appear  until  all  these  lower  animals  had  been 
born,  which  were  destined  to  minister  to  his  necessities,  and  to 
afford  him  the  means  and  opportunities  for  that  kind  of  devel- 
opment which  is  peculiarly  his  own.  On  the  contrary,  this 
doctrine  of  the  previous  creation  of  the  lower  animals,  which  is, 
perhaps,  more  firmly  established  on  the  facts  of  science  than 
any  other  respecting  the  origin  of  Man,  is  a  doctrine  fitting 
closely  into  the  fundamental  conceptions  which  inspire  the  be- 
lief that  Man  has  been  produced  by  operations  as  exceptional 
as  their  result.  And  so  it  is,  that  when  we  see  men  inhabiting 
lands  destitute  of  all  the  higher  Mammalia,  which  are  else- 
where his  servants  or  companions — destitute  even  of  those 
productions  of  the  vegetable  kingdom,  which  alone  repay  the 
cultivation  of  the  soil,  we  conclude  with  certainty  that  he  is 
there  a  wanderer  from  some  distant  lands,  where  the  work  of 
creation  had  been  carried  farther,  and  where  the  provisions  of 
surrounding  Nature  were  such  as  to  afford  him  the  conditions 
of  a  home. 

We  see,  then,  that  the    question  asked  by  Mr.  Darwin,  in 
respect  to  the  Fuegians,  is  a  question  arising  equally  in  respect 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF    MAN.  247 

to  all  the  races  who  inhabit  regions  of  the  Globe,  which  from 
any  cause  present  conditions  highly  unfavorable  to  Man.  Just 
as  Mr.  Darwin  asked,  what  could  have  induced  tribes  to  travel 
down  the  American  Continent  to  a  climate  so  rigorous  as  Cape 
Horn  ? — just  as  we  have  asked,  on  the  same  principle,  what 
could  have  induced  men  to  travel  along  the  same  Continent 
in  an  opposite  direction  till  they  reached  and  settled  within  the 
Arctic  Circle  ? — so  now  we  have  to  ask,  what  could  have  in- 
duced men  to  travel  from  Asia,  or  from  the  rich  and  splendid 
Islands  of  the  Eastern  Archipelago,  and  to  take  up  their  abode 
in  Australasia  ? 

In  every  one  of  these  cases  the  change  has  been  greatly  for 
the  worse.  It  has  been  a  change  not  only  involving  compara- 
tive disadvantages,  but  positive  disabilities — affecting  the  fun- 
damental elements  of  Civilization,  and  subjecting  those  who 
underwent  that  change  to  deteriorating  influences  of  the  most 
powerful  kind. 

It  follows  from  these  considerations  as  a  necessary  conse- 
quence that  the  present  condition  of  the  Australian,  or  the 
recent  condition  of  the  Tasmanian,  cannot  possibly  be  any 
trustworthy  indication  of  the  condition  of  their  ancestors,  when 
they  lived  in  more  favored  regions.  The  same  argument  ap- 
plies to  them  which,  as  we  have  seen,  applies  to  the  Fuegians 
and  the  Eskimo.  If  all  these  families  of  Mankind  are  the  de- 
scendants of  men,  who  at  some  former  time  inhabited  countries 
wholly  different  in  climate,  and  in  productions,  and  in  all  the 
facilities  which  these  afford  for  the  development  of  the  special 
faculties  of  the  race,  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  improbable  that 
,  a  change  of  habitat  so  great  should  have  been  without  a  corre- 
sponding effect  upon  those  over  whom  it  passed.  Nor  is  it  a 
matter  of  doubt  or  mere  speculation  that  this  effect  must  have 
been  in  the  highest  degree  unfavorable.  The  conclusion,  there- 
fore, to  which  we  are  led  is,  that  such  races  as  those  which  in- 
habit Australasia,  are  indeed  the  results  of  Development,  or  of 
Evolution — but  of  the  development  of  unfavorable  conditions 
and  of  the  evolution  of  the  natural  effects  of  these.  Instead 
of  assuming  them  to  be  the  nearest  living  representatives  of 
Primeval  Man,  we  should  be  more  safe  in  assuming  them  to 
represent  the  widest  departure  from  that  earliest  condition  ot 


248  THE    UNITY   OF   NATURE, 

our  race  which,  on  the  theory  of  Development,  must  of  neces- 
sity have  been  associated  at  first  with  the  most  highly  favor- 
able conditions  of  external  Nature. 

Of  one  thing,  at  least,  we  may  be  tolerably  certain  respecting 
the  causes  which  have  led  to  this  extreme  dispersion  of  Man- 
kind to  inhospitable  regions,  at  a  vast  distance  from  any  possi- 
ble centre  of  their  birth.  The  first  Fuegian  was  not  impelled  to 
Cape  Horn  by  the  same  motives  which  impelled  Mr.  Darwin  to 
visit  that  country  in  the  Beagle.  The  first  Eskimo,  who  win- 
tered on  the  shores  of  Baffin's  Bay,  was  not  induced  to  do  so 
for  the  same  reasons  which  led  to  the  expeditions  of  Back,  of 
Franklin,  or  of  Rae.  The  first  inhabitants  of  Australasia  did 
not  voyage  there  under  conditions  similar  to  those  which  at- 
tended the  voyages  of  Tasman  or  of  Cook.  We  cannot  sup- 
pose that  those  distant  shores  were  first  colonized  by  men 
possessed  with  the  genius,  and  far  advanced  in  the  triumphs  of 
modern  Civilization.  Still  less  can  we  suppose  that  they  went 
there  under  the  influence  of  that  last  development  of  Man's 
intellectual  nature,  which  leads  him  to  endure  almost  any  suf- 
fering in  the  cause  of  purely  scientific  investigation. 

Nor  is  this  the  only  solution  of  the  difficulty  which  seems  to 
be  absolutely  excluded  by  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  With- 
in the  historical  period,  and  in  the  dim  centuries  which  lie  im- 
mediately beyond  it,  we  know  that  many  lands  have  been  oc- 
cupied by  conquering  races  coming  from  a  distance.  Some- 
times they  came  to  subdue  tribes  which  had  long  preceded 
them  in  occupation,  but  which  were  ruder,  as  well  as  weaker, 
than  themselves.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  the  northern 
nations  bursting  in  upon  the  Roman  Empire,  they  came  to 
overthrow  a  Civilization  which  had  once  been,  and  in  many 
ways  still  was,  much  higher  than  their  own,  but  which  the  prog- 
ress of  development  in  a  wrong  direction  had  sunk  in  degra- 
dation and  decay.  Sometimes  they  came  simply  to  colonize 
new  lands,  at  least  as  favored,  and  generally  much  more  fa- 
vored, than  their  own — bringing  with  them  all  the  resources  of 
which  they  were  possessed— their  flocks  and  herds,  their  women 
and  children,  as  well  as  their  warriors  with  chariots  and  horses. 
Such  was  the  case  with  some  of  those  nations  which  at  various 
times  have  held  their  sway  from  Central  Asia  into  Eastern  an6 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF   MAN.  249 

Central  Europe.  They  were  nations  on  the  march.  But  no 
movement  of  a  like  kind  has  taken  place  for  many  centuries. 
Lastly,  we  have  the  emigrations  of  our  own  day,  when  civilized 
men,  carrying  with  them  all  the  knowledge,  all  the  require- 
ments, and  all  the  materials  of  an  advanced  Civilization,  have 
landed  in  countries  which  by  means  of  these  could  be  made  fit 
for  settlement,  and  could  be  converted  into  the  seats  of  agri' 
culture  and  of  commerce. 

Not  one  of  these  cases  can  reasonably  be  supposed  to  have 
been  the  case  of  the  first  arrival  of  Man  in  Australasia.  The 
natural  disadvantages  of  the  country,  as  compared  with  the 
richness  and  abundance  of  the  regions  from  which  he  must 
have  come,  or  which  were  on  his  southward  line  of  march, 
preclude  the  supposition  that  men  were  attracted  to  it  by 
natural  objects  of  desire.  We  know  by  experience  that  if 
the  first  settlers  had  been  in  a  condition  to  bring  with  them 
the  higher  animals  which  abound  in  Asia,  these  animals  would 
have  flourished  in  Australia  as  they  now  do.  And  so  also, 
with  reference  to  the  Cereals — if  these  had  ever  been  in- 
troduced, the  modern  Australians  would  not  have  been  wholly 
without  them,  and  would  not  have  been  compelled  to  live  so 
much  on  the  lowest  kinds  of  animal  and  vegetable  food, — on 
fish,  lizards,  grubs,  snakes,  and  the  roots  of  ferns. 

There  is,  however,  one  answer  to  Mr.  Darwin's  question, 
which  satisfies  all  the  conditions  of  the  case.  There  is  one  ex- 
planation and  only  one,  of  the  dispersion  of  the  human  race  to 
the  uttermost  extremities  of  the  habitable  Globe.  The  secret 
lies  in  that  great  law  which  Malthus  was  the  first  to  observe 
and  to  establish — the  law,  namely,  that  population  is  always 
pressing  on  the  limits  of  subsistence.  There  is  a  constant  tend- 
ency to  multiplication  beyond  those  limits.  And,  among  the 
many  consequences  of  this  tendency,  the  necessity  of  disper- 
sion stands  first  and  foremost.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  under 
some  conditions,  such  as  those  which  have  been  already  indi- 
cated, the  most  energetic  races,  or  the  most  energetic  individ- 
uals, have  been  those  who  moved.  But  under  many  other  con- 
ditions the  advantage  has  been  in  favor  of  those  who  stayed. 
Quarrels  and  wars  between  tribe  and  tribe,  induced  by  the 
mere  increase  of  numbers,  and  by  consequent  pressure  upon 


25°  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

the  means  of  living,  have  been  always,  ever  since  Man  existed, 
driving  the  weaker  individuals  and  the  weaker  families  farther 
and  farther  from  the  original  settlements  of  Mankind. 

Then  one  great  argument  remains.  In  the  nature  of  things 
the  original  settlements  of  Man  must  of  necessity  have  been 
the  most  highly  favored  in  the  conditions  he  requires.  If,  on 
the  commonly  received  theory  of  Development,  those  conditions 
produced  him,  they  must  have  reached,  at  the  time  when,  and 
in  the  place  where  he  arose,  the  very  highest  degree  of  perfect 
adaptation.  He  must  have  been  happy  in  the  circumstances  in 
which  he  found  himself  placed,  and  presumably  he  must  have 
been  contented  to  remain  there.  Equally  on  the  theory  of 
Man  being  a  special  creation,  we  must  suppose  that  when 
weakest  and  most  ignorant  he  must  have  been  placed  in  what 
was  to  him  a  garden— that  is  to  say,  in  some  region  where  the 
fruits  of  the  Earth  were  abundant  and  easily  accessible. 
Whether  this  region  were  wide  or  narrow,  he  would  not  natur- 
ally leave  it  except  from  necessity.  On  every  possible  supposi- 
tion, therefore,  as  to  the  origin  of  Man,  those  who  in  the  disper- 
sion of  the  race  were  first  subjected  to  hard  and  unfavorable 
conditions  would  naturally  be  those  who  had  least  strength  to 
meet  them,  and  upon  whom  they  would  have  accordingly  the 
most  depressing  effect.  This  is  a  process  of  Natural  Rejection 
which  is  the  inseparable  correlative  of  the  process  of  Natural 
Selection.  It  tends  to  development  in  a  wrong  direction  by  the 
combined  action  of  two  different  circumstances  which  are  in- 
herent in  the  nature  of  the  case.  First,  it  must  be  always  the 
weaker  men  who  are  driven  out  from  comfortable  homes  ;  and, 
secondly,,  it  must  be  always  to  comparatively  unfavorable  re- 
gions that  they  are  compelled  to  fly.  Under  the  operation  of 
causes  so  combined  as  these,  it  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  the 
physical  and  mental  condition  of  the  tribes  which  have  been 
exposed  to  them  should  remain  unchanged.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  adverse  conditions,  if  they  be  not  too  severe,  may  develop 
energy,  and  result  in  the  establishment  of  races  of  special  hard- 
ihood. And  in  many  cases  this  has  been  the  actual  result. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  physical  conditions  be  as  insuper- 
able as  those  which  prevail  in  Tierra  del  Fuego  or  in  Baffin's 
Bay ;  or  if,  though  less  severe  than  these,  they  are  nevertheless 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF   MAN.  251 

too  hard  to  be  overcome  by  the  resources  at  the  disposal  of 
the  men  who  are  driven  to  encounter  them,  then  the  battle  of 
life  becomes  a  losing  one.  Under  such  circumstances,  degra- 
dation is  unavoidable.  As  surely  as  the  progress  of  Man  is 
the  result  of  Opportunity,  that  is  to  say,  as  surely  as  it  is  due  to 
the  working  of  his  faculties  under  stimulating  and  favoring 
conditions,  so  surely  must  he  descend  in  the  scale  of  Intelli- 
gence and  of  culture,  when  that  opportunity  is  taken  from  him, 
and  when  these  faculties  are  placed  under  conditions  where 
they  have  no  call  to  work. 

It  is,  then,  easy  to  see  some  at  least  of  the  external  circum- 
stances which,  first,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  would  bring 
an  adverse  influence  to  bear  upon  Mankind.  Here  we  are  on 
firm  ground,  because  we  know  the  law  from  which  comes  the 
necessity  of  migrations,  and  the  force  which  has  propelled  suc- 
cessive generations  of  men  farther  and  farther  in  ever-widening 
circles  round  the  original  centre  or  centres  of  their  birth. 
Then,  as  it  would  be  always  the  feebler  tribes  which  would  be 
driven  from  the  ground  which  has  become  overstocked,  and  as 
the  lands  to  which  they  went  forth  were  less  and  less  hospit- 
able in  climate  and  productions,  the  struggle  for  life  would  be 
always  harder.  And  so  it  would  generally  happen,  in  the 
natural  course  of  things,  that  the  races  which  were  driven 
farthest  would  become  the  rudest  and  the  most  engrossed  in 
the  pursuits  of  mere  animal  existence. 

Accordingly,  we  find  that  this  key  of  principle  fits  into  and 
explains  many  of  those  facts  in  the  distribution  and  condition 
of  Mankind,  which,  in  the  case  of  the  Fuegians,  excited  the 
wonder  and  curiosity  of  Darwin.  In  the  light  of  this  explana- 
tion, these  facts  seem  to  take  form  and  order.  It  is  a  fact  that 
the  lowest  and  rudest  tribes  in  the  population  of  the  Globe  have 
been  found,  as  we  have  seen,  at  the  farthest  extremities  of  its 
larger  Continents,  or  in  the  distant  Islands  of  its  great  Oceans, 
or  among  the  hills  and  forests  which  in  every  land  have  been 
the  last  refuge  of  the  victims  of  violence  and  misfortune. 
Those  extreme  points  of  land  which  in  both  hemispheres  extend 
into  severe  latitudes  are  not  the  only  portions  of  the  Globe  which 
are  highly  unfavorable  to  Man.  There  are  other  regions  quite 
as  bad,  if  not,  in  some  respects,  even  worse.  In  the  dense, 


252  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

uniform,  and  gloomy  forests  of  the  Amazon  and  Orinoco  there 
are  tribes  which  seem  to  be  among  the  lowest  in  the  world.  It 
cannot  be  unconnected  with  the  savagery  of  the  condition  to 
which  they  have  been  reduced  that  we  find  the  remarkable  fact 
that  all  those  regions  of  Tropical  America  are  wholly  wanting 
in  the  animals  which  are  capable  of  domestication,  and  which 
are  inseparable  from  the  earliest  traces  of  human  culture.  The 
Ox,  the  Horse,  and  the  Sheep  are  all  absent — even  as  regards 
the  genera  to  which  they  belong.  There  are  indeed  the  Tapir, 
the  Paca,  and  the  Curassow  Turkey,  and  all  these  are  animals 
which  can  be  tamed.  But  none  of  them  will  breed  in  confine- 
ment, and  the  races  cannot  be  established  as  useful  servants  of 
Mankind.  In  contrast  with  these  and  with  other  insuperable 
disadvantages  of  men  driven  into  the  forests  of  Tropical  Amer- 
ica, it  is  instructive  to  observe  that  the  same  races,  where  free 
from  these  disadvantages,  were  never  reduced  to  the  same  con- 
dition. In  Peru  the  Indian  races  had  the  Llama,  and  had  also 
an  advanced  Civilization.*  In  India,  too,  it  is  always  the  Hill 
Tribes  who  furnish  the  least  favorable  specimens  of  our  race. 
But  in  every  one  of  these  cases  we  have  the  presence  of  exter- 
nal circumstances  and  physical  conditions  which  are  compara- 
tively unfavorable.  It  is  quite  certain  that  these  conditions 
must  have  had  their  own  effect.  It  is  equally  certain  that  the 
races  which  have  been  subject  to  them  for  a  long  and  indefi- 
nite time  must  have  been  once  under  the  influence  of  conditions 
much  more  favorable  ;  and  the  inevitable  conclusion  follows, 
that  the  savagery  and  degradation  of  their  existing  state  is  to" 
a  great  extent  the  result  of  development  in  a  wrong  direction. 

There  are  other  arguments  all  pointing  the  same  way,  the 
force  of  which  cannot  be  fully  estimated,  except  by  those  who 
are  familiar  with  some  of  the  fundamental  conceptions  which 
seem  to  rise  unbidden  in  the  mind  from  the  facts  which  geology 
has  revealed  touching  the  history  of  Creation.  One  of  these 
facts  is  that  each  new  Organic  Form,  or  each  new  variety  of 
birth,  seems  always  to  have  been  introduced  with  a  wonderful 
energy  of  life.  It  is  needless  to  repeat  that  this  fact  stands  in 
close  connection  with  every  possible  theory  of  Evolution.  If 
these  new  Forms  were  the  product  of  favoring  conditions,  the 

*  "  Naturalist  on  the  Amazons,"  Bates,  vol.  i.  p,  191-3. 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION    OF    MAN.  253 

prevalence  of  these  conditions  would  start  them  with  force  upon 
their  way.  The  initial  energy  would  be  great.  Where  every 
condition  was  favorable — so  favorable  indeed  that  the  new  birth 
is  assumed  to  have  been  nothing  but  their  natural  result — then 
the  newly-born  would  be  strong  and  lusty.  And  such,  accord- 
ingly, is  the  fact  in  that  record  of  Evolution  or  of  Creation  which 
Palaeontology  affords.  The  vigor  which  prevails  in  the  youth 
of  an  individual  is  but  the  type  of  the  vigor  which  has  always 
prevailed  in  new  and  rising  species.  All  the  complex  influ- 
ences which  led  to  their  being  born,  led  also  to  their  being  fat 
and  flourishing.  That  which  caused  them  to  arise  at  all  must 
have  had  the  effect  of  causing  them  to  arise  in  strength.  The 
condition  of  all  the  lowest  races  of  men  is  in  absolute  contrast 
with  everything  which  this  law  demands.  Everywhere,  and  in 
everything,  they  exhibit  all  the  characteristics  of  an  energy  which 
is  spent — of  a  force  which  has  declined — of  a  vitality  which  has 
been  arrested.  In  numbers  they  are  stationary,  or  dwindling ; 
in  mind  they  are  feeble  and  uninventive ;  in  habits  they  are 
stupid  or  positively  suicidal. 

It  is  another  symptom  of  a  wrong  development  being  the  real 
secret  of  their  condition  that  the  lowest  of  them  seem  to 
have  lost  even  the  power  to  rise.  Though  individually  capable 
of  learning  what  civilized  men  have  taught  them,  yet  as  races 
they  have  been  invariably  scorched  by  the  light  of  Civilization, 
and  have  withered  before  it  like  a  plant  whose  roots  have  failed. 
The  power  of  assimilation  seems  to  have  departed,  as  it  always 
does  depart  from  an  Organism  which  is  worn  out.  This  has 
not  been  the  result  with  races  which,  though  very  barbarous, 
have  never  sunk  below  the  pastoral  or  the  agricultural  stage. 
It  is  remarkable  that  the  Indian  races  of  North  America  are 
perhaps  the  highest  which  have  exhibited  this  fatal  and  ir- 
redeemable incapacity  to  rise  :  and  it  is  precisely  in  their  case 
that  we  have  the  most  direct  evidence  of  degradation  by  devel- 
opment in  a  wrong  direction.  There  are  abundant  remains  of 
a  very  ancient  American  Civilization,  which  was  marked  by  the 
construction  of  great  public  works  and  by  the  development  of 
an  agriculture  founded  on  the  Maize,  which  is  a  cereal  indige- 
nous to  the  Continent  of  America.  This  Civilization  was  subse- 
quently destroyed  or  lost,  and  then  succeeded  a  period  in  which 


254  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

Man  relapsed  into  partial  barbarism.  The  spots  which  had 
been  first  forest,  then,  perhaps,  sacred  monuments,  and  thirdly, 
cultivated  ground,  relapsed  into  forest  once  more.*  So  strong 
is  this  evidence  of  degradation  having  affected  the  population 
of  a  great  part  of  the  American  Continent,  that  the  distin- 
guished author  from  whom  these  words  are  quoted,  and  who 
generally  represents  the  Savage  as  the  nearest  living  represent- 
ative of  primeval  Man,  is  obliged  to  ask,  "  What  fatal  cause 
destroyed  this  earlier  civilization  ?  Why  were  these  fortifica- 
tions forsaken — these  cities  in  ruins  ?  How  were  the  populous 
nations  which  once  inhabited  the  rich  American  valleys  reduced 
to  the  poor  tribes  of  savages  whom  the  European  found  there  ? 
Did  the  North  and  South  once  before  rise  up  in  arms  against 
one  another  ?  Did  the  terrible  appellation,  the  '  Dark  and 
Bloody  Land/  applied  to  Kentucky,  commemorate  these  ancient 
wars  ?  "  t  Whatever  may  have  been  the  original  cause,  the 
process  of  degradation  has  been  going  on  within  the  historic 
period.  When  Europeans  first  came  in  contact  with  the  Indian 
tribes,  there  was  more  agriculture  among  them  than  there  is 
now.  They  have  long  descended  to  the  condition  of  pure  hunt- 
ers. The  most  fundamental  of  all  the  elements  of  a  civilized 
and  settled  life — the  love  and  practice  of  agriculture — has  been 
lost.  Development  in  the  wrong  direction  had  done  its  work. 
There  is  no  insoluble  mystery  in  this  result.  It  is,  in  all  prob- 
ability, if  indeed  it  be  not  certainly,  attributable  to  one  cause, 
that  of  internecine  and  devastating  wars.  And  these  again  are 
the  result  of  a  natural  and  universal  instinct  which  has  its  own 
legitimate  fields  of  operation,  but  which  like  all  other  human 
instincts  is  liable  to  degenerate  into  a  destructive  passion.  The 
love  of  dominion  is  strong  in  all  men,  and  it  has  ever  been 
strongest  in  the  strongest  races.  But  the  love  of  fighting  and 
of  conquest  very  often  sinks  into  a  mere  lust  of  blood.  The 
natural  rivalry  of  different  communities  may  become  such  im- 
placable hatred  as  to  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  the  ex- 
termination of  an  enemy.  Inspired  by  this  passion,  particular 
races  or  tribes  have  sometimes  acquired  a  power  and  a  ferocity 
in  fighting,  against  which  other  tribes  of  a  much  higher  char- 

*Lubbock,  "Prehistoric  Times,"  p.  234, 
t  Ibid.  p.  236. 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION   OF   MAN.  255 

acter  and  of  a  much  more  advanced  civilization  have  been  un- 
able  to  contend. 

This  is  no  fancy  picture.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the 
decline  of  Civilization  in  the  American  Continent  has  been 
due  to  the  invasion  of  it  by  Europeans  since  the  discovery  of 
Columbus.  Just  as  the  older  civilization  of  that  Continent 
was  an  indigenous  Civilization  founded  on  the  cultivation  of  a 
cereal  peculiar  to  America,  so  also  does  the  decay  and  loss  of 
this  Civilization  seem  to  have  been  a  purely  indigenous  decay. 
Mr.  Wilson,  in  his  very  interesting  work  on  "  Prehistoric  Man," 
gives  an  account  of  the  process  by  which  barbarism  has  been 
actually  seen  extending  among  the  Red  Indian  tribes.  When 
the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence  first  came  under  the  observation 
of  Europeans,  some  of  those  tribes  were  found  to  be  leading  a 
settled  life,  practising  agriculture,  and  constituting  communities 
in  possession  of  all  the  elements  of  a  Civilization  fairly  begun, 
or  probably  long  inherited.  The  destruction  of  these  commu- 
nities was  effected  by  the  savage  hostility  of  one  or  two  par- 
ticular tribes,  such  as  the  Iriquois  and  the  Mohawks.  In  these 
tribes  the  lust  of  blood  had  been  developed  into  an  absorbing 
passion,  so  that  their  very  name  became  a  terror  and  a  scourge. 
Wholly  given  up  to  war  as  a  pursuit,  their  path  was  red  with 
blood  and  the  more  peaceful  and  civilized  branches  of  the  same 
stock  were  driven,  a  scanty  remnant,  into  forests  and  marshes, 
where  their  condition  was  necessarily  reduced  to  that  of  Sav- 
ages, living  wholly  by  the  chase.  It  is  a  curious  and  instructive 
fact  that  this  sequence  of  events  was  so  vividly  and  painfully 
remembered  among  some  of  the  Red  Indian  tribes  that  it  had 
become  embodied  in  a  religious  myth.  It  was  said  that  in  old 
times  the  Indians  were  increasing  so  fast  that  they  were  threat- 
ened with  want,  and  that  the  Great  Spirit  then  taught  them  to 
make  war,  and  thus  to  thin  one  another's  numbers.*  Although 
this  myth  stands  in  very  close  connection  with  the  universal 
tradition  of  a  Golden  Age,  or  of  a  Past  in  some  measure  better 
than  the  Present,  it  is  remarkable  on  account  of  the  specific 
cause  which  he  assigns  for  deterioration  and  decay,  a  cause  in 
respect  to  which  we  have  historical  evidence  of  its  actual  effects. 

When  the  great  French  navigator,  Cartier,  first  explored  the 

*  u  Fossil  Men,"  Principal  Dawson,  p.  47.     Montreal,  1880. 


2^6  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

St.  Lawrence  in  1534-35,  he  ascended  to  thatpoin  of  its  course 
whence  the  City  of  Montreal  now  looks  down  upon  its  vast  and 
splendid  prospect  of  fertile  lands  and  of  rushing  waters.  He 
found  it  occupied  by  the  Indian  town  of  Hochelaga — inhabited 
by  a  comparatively  civilized  people,  busy  not  only  in  fishing  or 
in  hunting,  but  also  in  a  successful  husbandry.  The  town  was 
strongly  fortified,  and  it  was  surrounded  by  cultivated  ground. 
Within  one  hundred  and  seven  years — some  time  between  1535 
and  1642 — Hochelaga  had  utterly  disappeared,  with  all  its  pop- 
ulation, and  all  its  culture.  It  had  been  destroyed  by  wars, 
and  its  site  had  returned  to  forest  or  to  bush.  To  this  day 
when  men  dig  the  foundations  of  new  houses  in  Montreal  they 
dig  up  the  flint  implements  of  the  Hochelagans,  which,  although 
about  350  years  old,  may  now  be  reckoned  by  the  scientific 
anthropologist  as  relics  of  the  "  Stone  Age,"  *  and  of  an  ancient 
universal  savagery.  The  same  course  of  things  prevailed  over 
the  greater  part  of  Canada.  During  the  first  half  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  a  large  part  of  the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 
and  vast  tracts  of  country  on  both  shores  of  the  great  Lakes, 
are  known  to  have  been  devastated  by  exterminating  wars.  In 
1626  a  Jesuit  missionary  penetrated  into  the  settlement  of  a 
tribe  called  the  Attiwenderonks.  He  found  them  inhabiting 
towns  and  villages,  and  largely  cultivating  Tobacco,  Maize,  and 
Beans.  The  country  inhabited  by  the  tribe  which  has  left  its 
name  in  Lake  Erie,  is  stated  to  have  been  greatly  more  ex- 
tensive, and  is  everywhere  covered" with  the  marks  of  a  similar 
stage  of  civilization.  Within  less  than  thirty  years  later  another 
missionary  found  the  whole  of  the  regions  a  silent  desert.  In 
like  manner  the  country  round  Lake  Huron  was,  at  the  same 
period  of  time,  seen  to  be  full  of  populous  villages  defended  by 
walls,  and  surrounded  by  cultivated  fields.  But  the  same  fate 
befel  them.f  They  were  extirpated  by  the  Mohawks. 

Here  then  we  see  in  actual  operaion,  within  very  recent 
times,  a  true  cause — which  is  quite  capable  of  producing  the 
effects  which,  by  some  means  or  another,  have  certainly  been 
produced — and  that,  too,  on  the  largest  scale — upon  the 
American  Continent.  It  is  a  cause  arising  out  of  the  corrup- 

:  "  Fossil  Men,"  Principal  Dawson,  pp.  29-42.     Montreal,  1880. 
t  "  Prehistoric  Man,"  Dan.  Wilson,  pp.  359-60. 


ON    THE   DEGRADATION   OF   MAN.  257 

tion  of  human  nature,  that  is  to  say,  out  of  one  of  the  universal 
instincts  of  Mankind,  developed  in  such  excess  as  to  become  a 
ictive  mania.  Many  nations  most  highly  civilized  have 
extremely  warlike — and  the  ambition  they  have  cherished 
subduing  other  nations  has  been  the  means  of  extending 
over  the  world  their  own  knowledge  of  the  arts  of  government, 
and  their  own  high  attainments  in  the  science  of  jurisprudence. 
But  when  the  same  passion  takes  possession  of  ruder  men,  and 
is  directed  by  irrational  antipathies  between  rival  families  and 
rival  tribes,  it  may  be,  and  has  often  been,  one  of  the  most 
desolating  scourges  of  humanity.  In  itself  an  abuse  and  a 
degradation  which  none  of  the  lower  animals  exhibit,  it  tends 
always  to  the  evolution  of  further  evils,  to  the  complete 
destruction  of  civilized  communities,  or  to  the  reduction  of 
their  scanty  remnants  to  the  condition  and  the  habits  of  savage 
life. 

It  results  from  these  facts  and  considerations,  gathered  over 
a  wide  field  of  observation  and  experience,  that  the  processes 
of  Evolution  and  Development  as  they  work  in  Man,  lead  to 
consequences  wholly  different  from  those  to  which  they  lead  in 
other  departments  of  Creation.  There,  they  tend  always  in 
one  of  two  directions,  both  of  which  are  directions  pre- 
determined and  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  Unity  of  Nature. 
One  of  these  directions  is  that  of  perfect  success,  the  other  of 
these  directions  is  that  of  speedy  extinction.  Among  the 
lower  animals,  when  a  new  Form  appears,  it  suits  exactly  its 
surrounding  conditions  ;  and  when  it  ceases  to  do  so  it  ceases 
to  survive.  Or  if  it  does  survive  it  lives  by  change,  by  giving 
birth  to  something  new,  and  by  ceasing  to  be  identical  with  its 
former  self.  So  far  as  we  can  actually  see  the  past  work  of 
Development  among  the  beasts,  it  is  a  work  which  has  always 
led  either  to  rapid  multiplication  or  to  rapid  extinction.  There 
is  no  alternative.  But  in  Man  the  processes  of  Evolution  lead 
in  a  great  variety  of  directions — some  of  them  tending  more  or 
less  directly  to  the  elevation  of  the  creature,  but  others  of  them 
tending  very  speedily  and  very  powerfully  to  its  degradation. 
In  some  men  they  have  led  to  an  intellectual  and  moral  stand- 
ing, of  which  we  can  conceive  it  to  be  true  that  it  is  only  a 
"  little  lower  than  the  Angels."  In  others  they  have  ended  in 
17 


ider- 


258  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

a  condition  of  which  it  is  too  evidently  true  that  it  is  a  great 
deal  lower  than  the  condition  of  the  Beasts. 

We  can  get,  however,  a  great  deal  nearer  towards  the  un 
standing  of  this  anomaly  than  the  mere  recognition  of  it 
fact.  Hitherto  we  have  been  dealing  only  with  one  of  the 
great  causes  of  change — namely,  that  of  unfavorable  external 
or  physical  conditions.  Let  us  now  look  at  the  other — namely, 
the  internal  nature  and  character  of  Man.  We  can  see  how  it 
is  that,  when  working  under  certain  conditions,  the  peculiar 
powers  of  Man  must  lead  to  endless  developments  in  a  wrong 
direction.  Foremost  among  these  powers  is  the  gift  of 
Reason.  I  speak  here  of  Reason  not  as  the  word  is  often  used, 
to  express  a  great  variety  of  powers,  but  as  applied  to  the 
logical  Faculty  alone.  In  this  restricted  sense,  the  gift  of 
Reason  is  nothing  more  than  the  gift  of  seeing  the  necessity 
or  the  natural  consequences  of  things — whether  these  be  things 
said  or  things  done.  It  is  the  Faculty  by  which,  consciously  or 
unconsciously,  we  go  through  the  mental  process  expressed  in 
the  word  "  therefore."  It  is  the  Faculty  which  confers  on  us 
a  true  gift  of  Prophecy — the  power  of  foreseeing  that  which 
"  must  shortly  come  to  pass."  In  its  practical  application  to 
conduct,  and  to  the  affairs  of  life,  it  is  the  gift  by  which  we  see 
the  means  which  will  secure  for  us  certain  ends,  whether  these 
ends  be  the  getting  of  that  which  we  desire,  or  the  avoiding  of 
that  "which  we  dread.  But  in  its  root,  and  in  its  essence,  as 
\vel>  as  in  its  application  to  the  abstract  reasoning  of  math- 
ematics, it  it  simply  the  faculty  by  which  we  see  one  proposi- 
tion as  involving,  or  as  following  from  another. 

The  power  of  such  a  Faculty  obviously  must  be,  as  it  actually 
is,  immeasurable  and  inexhaustible,  because  there  is  no  limit  to 
this  kind  of  following.  That  is  to  say,  there  is  no  end  to  the 
number  of  things  which  are  the  consequence  of  each  other. 
Whatever  happens  in  the  world  is  the  result  of  causes,  moral  or 
material,  which  have  gone  before,  and  this  result  again  becomes 
the  cause  of  other  consequences,  moral  or  material,  which  must 
follow  in  their  turn.  It  is  a  necessary  result  of  the  Unity  of 
Nature,  and  of  the  Continuity  of  things,  that  the  links  of  con- 
sequence are  the  links  of  an  endless  chain.  It  is  the  business 
of  Reason  to  see  these  links  as  they  come  one  by  one  gradually 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION    OF    MAN.  259 

into  view ;  and  it  is  in  the  nature  of  a  reasoning  creature  to  be 
drawn  along  by  them  in  the  line,  whatever  it  may  be,  which  is 
the  line  of  their  direction.  The  distance  which  may  be 
traversed  in  following  that  direction  even  for  a  short  time,  and 
by  a  single  mind,  is  often  very  great — so  great  that  a  man  may 
be,  and  often  is,  a  different  Being  from  himself,  both  in 
opinions  and  in  conduct,  at  two  different  epochs  of  his  life. 
There  are,  indeed,  individuals,  and  there  are  times  and  condi- 
tions of  society,  in  which  thought  is  comparatively  stagnant, 
when  it  travels  nowhere,  or  when  its  movements  are  so  slow 
and  gradual  as  to  be  imperceptible.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  are  times  when  Mind  is  on  the  inarch.  And  then  it 
travels  fast  and  far.  The  journey  is  immense  indeed,  which 
may  be  accomplished  by  a  few  successive  generations  of  men 
following,  one  after  the  other,  the  links  of  consequence.  At 
the  end  of  such  a  journey,  the  children  may  be  separated  from 
their  fathers  by  more  than  the  breadth  of  Oceans.  They  may 
have  passed  into  new  regions  of  thought  and  of  opinion,  of 
habit  and  of  worship.  If  the  movement  has  been  slow,  and  if 
the  time  occupied  has  been  long,  it  will  be  all  the  more 
difficult  to  retrace  the  steps  by  which  the  change  has  been 
brought  about.  It  will  appear  more  absolute  and  complete 
than  it  really  is — the  new  regions  of  thought  being  in  truth  con- 
nected with  the  old  by  a  well-beaten  and  continuous  track. 

But  these  endless  processes  of  Development  arising  out  of 
the  operation  of  the  Reasoning  Faculty,  are  consistent  with  any 
result — good  or  bad.  Whether  the  great  changes  they  produce 
have  been  for  the  better  or  for  the  worse,  must  depend,  not  on 
the  length  of  the  journey,  but  on  the  original  direction  in  which 
it  was  begun.  It  depends  on  whether  that  direction  has  been 
right  or  wrong — on  whether  the  road  taken  has  been  the  log- 
ical development  of  a  truth,  or  the  logical  development  of  a  lie. 
The  one  has  a  train  of  consequences  as  long  and  as  endless  as 
the  other.  It  is  the  nature  of  the  Reasoning  Faculty  that  it 
works  from  data.  But  these  data  are  supplied  to  it  from  many 
different  sources.  In  the  processes  of  reasoning  on  which  the 
abstract  sciences  depend,  the  fundamental  data  are  axioms  or 
self-evident  propositions.  These  may,  in  a  sense,  be  said  to  be 
supplied  by  the  Reasoning  Faculty  itself,  because  the  recogni- 


260  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

tion  of  a  truth  as  self-evident  is  in  itself  an  exercise  of  the 
Reasoning  Faculty.  But  in  all  branches  of  knowledge,  other 
than  the  abstract  sciences,  that  is  to  say,  in  every  department  of 
thought  which  most  nearly  concerns  our  conduct  and  our  beliefs, 
the  data  on  which  Reason  has  to  work  are  supplied  to  it  from 
sources  external  to  itself.  In  matters  of  Belief,  they  come,  for 
the  most  part,  from  Authority,  in  some  one  or  other  of  its  many 
forms,  or  from  Imagination  working  according  to  its  own  laws 
upon  impressions  received  from  the  external  world.  In  matters 
of  conduct,  the  data  supplied  to  Reason  come  from  all  the  in- 
numerable motives  which  are  founded  on  the  desires.  But  in  all 
these  different  provinces  of  thought  it  is  the  tendency  and  the 
work  of  Reason  to  follow  the  proposition,  or  the  belief,  or  the 
motive,  to  all  its  consequences.  Unless,  therefore,  the  proposi- 
tion is  really  as  true  as  it  seems  to  be  ;  unless  the  belief  is 
really  according  to  the  fact ;  unless  the  motive  is  really  legiti- 
mate and  good,  it  is  the  necessary  effect  of  the  logical  Faculty 
to  carry  men  farther  and  farther  into  the  paths  of  error,  until 
it  lands  them  in  depths  of  degradation  and  corruption  of 
which  unreasoning  creatures  are  incapable. 

It  is  astonishing  how  reasonable — that  is  to  say,  how  logical- 
are  even  the  most  revolting  practices  connected,  for  example, 
with  religious  worship  or  religious  customs,  provided  we  accept 
as  true  some  fundamental  conception  of  which  they  are  the 
natural  result.  If  it  be  true  that  the  God  we  worship  is  a  Be- 
ing who  delights  in  suffering,  and  takes  pleasure,  as  it  were,  in 
the  very  smell  of  blood,  then  it  is  not  irrational  to  appease  Him 
with  hecatombs  of  human  victims.  This  is  an  extreme  case. 
There  are,  however,  such  cases,  as  we  know,  actually  existing 
in  the  world.  But,  short  of  this,  the  same  principle  is  illustrated 
in  innumerable  cases,  where  cruel  and  apparently  irrational 
customs  are  in  reality  nothing  but  the  logical  consequences  of 
some  fundamental  Belief  respecting  the  nature,  the  character, 
and  the  commands  of  God.  In  like  manner,  in  the  region  of 
morals  and  of  conduct  not  directly  connected  with  religous  Be- 
liefs, Reason  may  be  nothing  but  the  servant  of  Desire,  and  in 
this  service  may  have  no  other  work  to  do  than  that  of  devising 
means  to  the  most  wicked  ends.  If  the  doctrine  given  to 
Reason  be  the  doctrine  that  pleasure  and  self-indulgence,  at 


ON    THE   DEGRADATION    OF    MAN.  261 

whatever  sacrifice  to  others,  are  the  great  aims  and  ends  of  life, 
then  Reason  will  be  busy  in  seeking  out  "  many  inventions  "  for 
the  attainment  of  them,  each  invention  being  more  advanced 
than  another  in  its  defiance  of  all  Obligation  and  in  its  aban- 
donment of  all  sense  of  duty.  Thus  the  development  of  selfish- 
ness under  the  guidance  of  faculties  which  place  at  its  command 
the  great  powers  of  foresight  and  contrivance,  is  a  kind  of  de- 
velopment quite  as  natural  and  quite  as  common  as  that  which 
constitutes  the  growth  of  knowledge  and  of  virtue.  It  is  indeed 
a  development  which,  under  the  condition  supposed — that  is  to 
say,  the  condition  of  false  or  erroneous  data  supplied  to  the 
Reasoning  Faculty — is  not  an  accident  or  a  contingency,  but 
a  necessary  and  inevitable  result. 

And  here  there  is  one  very  curious  circumstance  to  be  ob- 
served, which  brings  us  still  closer  to  the  real  seat  of  the  anom- 
aly which  makes  Man  in  so  many  ways  the  one  great  exception 
to  the  Order  of  Nature.  That  circumstance  is  the  helplessness 
of  mere  Reason  to  correct  the  kind  of  error  which  is  most  pow- 
ful  in  vitiating  conduct.  In  those  processes  of  abstract  Reason 
which  are  the  great  instruments  of  work  in  the  exact  sciences, 
the  Reasoning  Faculty  has  the  power  of  very  soon  detecting 
any  element  of  error  in  the  data  from  which  it  starts.  That  any 
given  proposition  leads  to  an  absurd  result,  is  one  of  the  famil- 
iar methods  of  disproof  in  mathematics.  That  one  of  only  two 
possible  alternatives  is  proved  to  be  absurd,  is  conclusive  dem- 
onstration that  the  other  must  be  true.  In  this  way  Reason 
corrects  her  own  operations,  for  the  Faculty  which  recognizes 
one  proposition  as  evidently  absurd,  is  the  same  Faculty  which 
recognizes  another  proposition  as  evidently  true.  It  is,  indeed, 
because  of  its  contradicting  something  evidently  true,  or  some- 
thing which  has  been  already  proved  to  be  true,  that  the  ab- 
surd result  is  seen  to  be  absurd.  It  is  in  this  way  that,  in  the 
exact  sciences,  erroneous  data  are  being  perpetually  detected, 
and  the  sources  of  error  are  being  perpetually  eliminated.  But 
Reason  seems  to  have  no  similar  power  of  detecting  errors  in 
the  data  which  are  supplied  to  it  from  other  departments  of 
thought.  In  the  developments,  for  example,  of  social  habits, 
and  of  the  moral  sentiments  on  which  these  principally  depend, 
no  results,  however  extravagant  or  revolting,  are  at  all  certain 


262  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

of  being  rejected  because  of  their  absurdity.  Among  men  we 
see  it  to  be  a  fact  that  no  practice  however  cruel,  no  custom 
however  destructive,  is  sure  on  account  of  its  cruelty  or  of  its 
destructiveness  to  be  at  once  detected  and  rejected  as  self-evi- 
dently  wrong.  Reason  works  upon  the  data  supplied  to  it  by 
superstition,  or  by  selfish  passions  and  desires,  apparently  with- 
out any  power  of  questioning  the  validity  of  those  data,  or,  at 
all  events,  without  any  power  of  immediately  recognizing  even 
their  most  extreme  results  as  evidently  false.  In  Religion,  at 
least,  it  would  almost  seem  as  if  there  were  no  axiomatic  truths 
which  are  universally,  constantly,  and  instinctively  present  to 
the  Mind — none,  at  least,  which  are  incapable  of  being  ob- 
scured— and  which,  therefore,  enevitably  compel  it  to  revolt 
against  every  course  or  every  belief  inconsistent  with  them.  It 
is  through  this  agency  of  erroneous  Belief  that  the  very  highest 
of  our  faculties,  the  Sense  of  Obligation,  may  and  does  become 
itself  the  most  powerful  of  all  agents  in  the  development  of  evil. 
It  consecrates  what  is  worst  in  our  own  nature,  or  whatever  of 
bad  has  come  to  be  sown  in  the  multitudinous  elements  which 
that  nature  contains.  The  consequence  is,  that  the  gift  of  Rea- 
son is  the  very  gift  by  means  of  which  error  in  Belief,  and  vice 
in  Character,  are  carried  from  one  stage  of  development  to  an- 
other, until  at  last  they  may,  and  they  often  do,  result  in  condi- 
tions of  life  and  conduct  removed  by  an  immeasurable  distance 
from  those  which  are  in  accordance  with  the  order  and  with 
the  analogies  of  Nature. 

These  are  the  conditions  of  life,  very  much  lower,  as  we  have 
seen,  than  those  which  prevail  among  the  Brutes,  which  it  is 
now  the  fashion  to  assume  to  be  the  nearest  type  of  the  condi- 
tions from  which  the  Human  Race  began  its  course.  They  are, 
in  reality  and  on  the  contrary,  conditions  which  could  not  possi- 
bly have  been  reached  except  after  a  very  long  journey.  They 
are  the  goal  at  which  men  have  arrived  after  running  for  many 
generations  in  a  wrong  direction.  They  are  the  result  of  Evolu- 
tion— they  are  the  product  of  Development.  But  it  is  the  evo- 
lution of  germs  whose  growth  is  noxious.  It  is  the  develop- 
ment of  passions  and  desires,  some  of  which  Man  possesses  in 
common  with  the  Brutes,  others  of  which  are  peculiar  to  him- 
self, but  all  of  which  are  in  him  freed  from  the  guiding  Hmita- 


ON   THE   DEGRADATION    OF   MAN.  263 

tions  which  in  every  other  department  of  Nature  prevail  among 
the  motive  forces  of  the  world,  and  by  means  of  which  alone 
they  work  to  order. 

It  is  in  the  absence  of  these  limitations  that  what  is  called  the 
Free  Will  of  Man  consists.  It  is  not  a  freedom  which  is  abso- 
lute and  unconditional.  It  is  not  a  freedom  which  is  without 
limitations  of  its  own.  It  is  not  a  freedom  which  confers  on 
Man  the  power  of  acting  except  on  some  one  or  other  of  the 
motives  which  it  is  in  b.is  nature  to  entertain.  But  that  nature 
is  so  infinitely  complex,  so  many-sided,  is  open  to  so  many  in- 
fluences, and  is  capable  of  so  many  movements,  that  practically 
their  combinations  are  almost  infinite.  His  freedom  is  a  free- 
dom to  choose  among  these  motives,  and  to  choose  what  he 
knows  to  be  the  worse  instead  of  the  better  part.  This  is  the 
freedom  without  which  there  could  be  no  action  attaining  to  the 
rank  of  Virtue ;  and  this  also  is  the  freedom  in  the  wrong  exer- 
cise of  which  all  Vice  consists. 

There  is  no  theoretical  necessity  that  along  with  this  freedom 
there  should  be  a  propensity  to  use  it  wrongly.  It  is  perfectly 
conceivable  that  such  freedom  should  exist,  and  that  all  the  de- 
sires and  dispositions  of  men  should  be  to  use  it  rightly.  Not 
only  is  this  conceivable,  but  it  is  a  wonder  that  it  should  be 
otherwise.  That  a  Being  with  powers  of  Mind  and  capacities 
of  enjoyment  rising  high  above  those  which  belong  to  any  other 
creature,  should,  alone  of  all  these  creatures,  have  an  innate 
tendency  to  use  his  powers,  not  only  to  his  own  detriment,  but 
even  to  his  own  self-torture  and  destruction,  is  such  an  excep- 
tion to  all  rule,  such  a  departure  from  all  Order,  and  such  a  vio- 
lation of  all  the  Reasonableness  of  Nature,  that  we  cannot 
think  too  much  of  the  mystery  it  involves.  It  is  possible 
that  some  light  may  be  thrown  upon  this  mystery  by  following 
the  facts  connected  with  it  into  one  of  the  principal  fields  of 
their  display — namely,  the  History  of  Religion.  But  this  must 
form  the  subject  of  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ON   THE   NATURE  AND   ORIGIN    OF    RELIGION. 

IF  any  one  were  to  ask  what  is  the  origin  of  hunger  or  what 
is  the  origin  of  thirst,  the  idleness  of  the  question  would  be  felt 
at  once.  And  yet  hunger  and  thirst  have  had  an  origin.  But 
that  origin  cannot  be  separated  from  the  origin  of  Organic  Life, 
and  the  absurdity  of  the  question  lies  in  this — that  in  asking 
it,  the  possibility  of  making  such  a  separation  is  assumed.  It 
involves  either  the  supposition  that  there  have  been  living  crea- 
tures which  had  no  need  of  food  and  drink,  or  else  the  supposi- 
tion that  there  have  been  living  creatures  which,  having  that 
need,  were  nevertheless  destitute  of  any  corresponding  appetite. 
Both  of  these  suppositions,  although  not  in  the  abstract  incon- 
ceivable, are  so  contrary  to  all  that  we  know  of  the  laws  of 
Nature,  that  practically  they  are  rejected  as  impossible.  There 
always  is,  and  there  always  must  be,  a  close  correspondence 
between  the  intimations  of  Sensibility  and  the  necessities  of 
Life.  Hunger  is  the  witness  in  sensation  to  the  law  which  de- 
mands for  all  living  things  a  renewal  of  Force  from  the  assimi- 
lation of  external  matter.  To  theorize  about  its  origin  is  to 
theorize  about  the  origin  of  that  law,  and  consequently  about 
the  origin  of  embodied  Life.  The  Darwinian  formula  is  not 
applicable  here.  Appetite  cannot  have  arisen  out  of  the  acci- 
dents of  variation.  It  must  have  been  coeval  with  Organiza- 
tion, of  which  it  is  a  necessary  part.  The  same  principle  ap- 
plies to  all  elementary  appetites  and  affections,  whether  they 
be  the  lower  appetites  of  the  Body  or  the  higher  appetites  of 
the  Mind.  They  exist  because  of  the  co-existence  of  certain 
facts  and  of  certain  laws  to  which  they  stand  in  a  relation  which 
is  natural  and  necessary,  because  it  is  a  relation  which  is  rea- 
sonable and  fitting.  Really  to  understand  how  these  appetites 
and  affections  arose,  it  would  be  necessary  to  understand  how 
all  the  corresponding  facts  and  laws  came  to  be,  But  in  many 


ON    THE    NATURE    A"ND    ORIGIN    OF    RELIGION.  265 

cases — indeed  in  most  cases — any  such  understanding  is  impos- 
sible, because  the  facts  and  the  laws  to  which  every  appetite 
corresponds  are  in  their  very  nature  ultimate.  They  are  laws 
behind  which,  or  beyond  which,  we  cannot  get.  The  only  true 
explanation  of  the  appetite  lies  in  the  simple  recognition  of  the 
Adjusted  Relations  of  which 'it  forms  a  part;  that  is  to  say — 
in  a  recognition  of  the  whole  System  of  Nature  as  a  Reasona- 
ble System,  and  of  this  particular  part  of  it  as  in  harmony  with 
the  rest.  Any  attempted  explanation  of  it  which  does  not  start 
with  that  recognition  of  the  Reasonableness  of  Nature  must  be 
futile.  Any  explanation  which  not  only  fails  in  this  recogni- 
tion, but  assumes  that  the  origin  of  anything  can  be  interpreted 
without  it,  must  be  not  only  futile  but'erroneous. 

Men  have  been  very  busy  of  late  in  speculating  on  the  origin 
of  Religion.  In  asking  this  question  they  generally  make, 
often  as  it  seems  unconsciously,  one  or  other  of  two  assump- 
tions. One  is  the  assumption  that  there  is  no  God,  and  that  it 
must  have  taken  a  long  time  to  invent  Him.  The  other  is  that 
there  is  a  God,  but  that  men  were  born,  or  created,  or  devel- 
oped, without  any  sense  or  feeling  of  His  existence,  and  that 
the  acquisition  of  such  a  sense  must  of  necessity  have  been  the 
work  of  time. 

I  do  not  now  say  that  either  of  these  assumptions  is  in  itself 
inconceivable,  any  more  than  the  supposition  that  at  some 
former  time  there  were  creatures  needing  food  and  drink  and 
yet  having  no  appetites  to  inform  them  of  the  fact.  But  what 
I  desire  to  point  out  is,  first,  that  one  or  other  of  these  assump- 
tions is  necessarily  involved  in  most  speculations  on  the  sub- 
ject; and  secondly,  that,  to  say  the  least,  it  is  possible  that 
neither  of  these  assumptions  may  be  true.  Yet  the  method  of 
inquiry  to  be  pursued  respecting  the  origin  of  Religion  must  be 
entirely  different,  according  as  we  start  from  one  or  other  of 
these  assumptions,  or  as  we  reject  them  both.  If  we  assume 
that  there  is  no  God,  then  the  question  how  Mankind  have 
come  so  widely  to  invent  one  or  more  of  such  imaginary  Be- 
ings, is  indeed  a  question  well  worthy  of  our  utmost  curiosity 
and  research.  But  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  start  with  the  as- 
sumption that  there  is  a  God,  or  indeed  if  we  assume  no  more 
than  that  there  are  Intelligences  in  the  Universe  superior  to 


266  THE   UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

Man,  and  possessing  some  power  greater  than  his  own  over  the 
Natural  System  in  which  he  lives,  then  the  method  of  inquiry 
into  the  origin  of  Religion  is  immensely  simplified.  Obviously 
the  question  how  Man  first  came  to  recognize  the  existence  of 
his  Creator,  if  we  suppose  such  a  Being  to  exist,  becomes  in 
virtue  of  that  supposition  relegated  to  the  same  class  as  the 
question  how  he  first  came  to  recognize  any  other  of  the  facts 
or  truths  which  it  concerns  him  most  to  know.  Indeed  from 
its  very  nature  this  truth  is  evidently  one  which  might  be  more 
easily  and  more  directly  made  known  to  him  than  many  others. 
The  existence  of  a  Being  from  whom  our  own  Being  has  been 
derived  involves,  at  least,  the  possibility  of  some  communica- 
tion direct  or  indirect.  Yet  the  impossibility  or  the  improbabil- 
ity of  any  such  communication  is  another  of  the  assumptions 
continually  involved  in  current  theories  about  the  origin  of  Relig- 
ion. Yet  it  is  quite  certain  that  no  such  assumption  can  be 
reasonably  made.  The  perceptions  of  the  Human  Mind  are 
accessible  to  the  intimations  of  external  truth  through  many 
avenues  of  approach.  In  its  very  structure  it  is  made  to  be  re- 
sponsive to  some  of  these  intimations  by  immediate  apprehen- 
sion. Man  has  that  within  him  by  which  the  Invisible  can  be 
seen,  and  the  Inaudible  can  be  heard,  and  the  Intangible  can 
be  felt.  Not  as  the  result  of  any  reasoning,  but  by  the  same 
power  by  which  it  sees  and  feels  the  postulates  on  which  all 
reasoning  rests,  the  Human  Mind  may  from  the  very  first  have 
felt  that  it  was  in  contact  with  a  Mind  which  was  the  fountain 
of  its  own. 

No  argument  can  be  conducted  without  some  assumptions. 
But  neither  ought  any  argument  to  be  conducted  without  a 
clear  understanding  what  these  assumptions  are.  Having  now 
cleared  up  the  assumptions  which  are  usually  made,  we  can 
proceed  with  greater  confidence  in  the  discussion  of  the  great 
problem  before  us.  The  origin  of  particular  systems  of  relig- 
ious Belief  is,  of  course,  a  mere  question  of  fact.  A  few  of 
these  systems  belong  to  our  own  time  :  others  have  arisen  late 
in  the  Historic  Ages  and  in  the  full  light  of  contemporary  evi- 
dence. Some,  again,  are  first  recognized  in  the  dawn  of  those 
Ages,  and  their  distinctive  features  can  only  be  dimly  traced 
through  evidence  which  is  scanty  and  obscure.  Religion  is 


ON   THE   NATURE   AND   ORIGIN   OF    RELIGION.  267 

the  origin  of  all  these  systems  of  Belief,  but  no  one  of  them 
represents  the  origin  of  Religion.     None  of  them  throw  any 
other  light  on  the  origin  of  Religion  than  as  all  exhibiting  the 
one  essential  element  in  which  all  Religion  consists.     And  it 
would  be  well  if  men,  before  philosophizing  on  the   origin  of 
Religion,  had  a  more  accurate  conception  of  what  they  mean 
by  it.     The  definitions  of  Religion  have  been  even  worse  than 
the  definitions  of  Morality.     Just  as  the  attempt  is  made  to  ac- 
count for  Morals  apart  from  the  sense  of  duty  or  of  Obligation 
in   conduct,  so  is  the   attempt  made  to  account  for  Religion 
apart  from  the  sense  of  Mind  or  Will  in  Nature.     The  great  ef- 
fort seems  to  have  been  to  try  how  the  essential  idea  of  Relig- 
ion could  be  either  most  completely  eliminated  or  else  most 
effectually  concealed.     For  example,  a  feeling  of  absolute  De- 
pendence has  been  specified  by  Schleiermacher  as  the  essence 
of  Religion.     Yet  it  is   evident  that  a  sense   of  absolute  De- 
pendence may  be  urgent  and  oppressive  without  the  slightest 
tincture  of  religious  feeling.     A  man  carried  off  in  a  flood,  and 
clinging  to  a  log  of  wood,  may  have,  and  must  have,  a  painful 
sense  of  absolute  dependence  on  the  log.     But  no  one  would 
think  of  describing  this  sense  as  a  feeling  of  Religion.     A  Sav- 
age may  have  a  feeling  of  absolute  dependence  on  his  bows 
and  arrows,  or  on  the  other  implements  of  his  chase  ;  or  dis- 
ease may  bring  home  to  him  a  sense  of  his  absolute  depen- 
dence on  the  Organs  of  his  own  body,  which  alone  enable  him 
to  use  his  weapons  with  success.     But  it  does   not  follow  that 
the  Savage  has  any  feeling  of  Religion  towards  his  bow,  or  his 
arrow,  or  his   net,  or  his  fish-spear,  or  even   towards  his  own 
legs  and  arms.     Any  plausibility,  therefore,  which  may  attach 
to  the  proposition   which  identifies    Religion   with  the   mere 
sense  of  Dependence,  is  due  entirely  to  the  fact  that  when  men 
speak  of  a  sense  of  Dependence  they  suggest  the  idea  of  a 
particular  kind  of  dependence — namely,  Dependence  upon  a 
Being  or  a  Personality,  and  not  Dependence   upon  a  thing. 
That  is   to  say,    that    the  plausibility   of  the    definition  is  en- 
tirely  due    to   an    element   of   thought   which    it   is    specially 
framed  to  keep  out  of  sight.     A  sense  of  absolute  Dependence 
on  purely  physical  things  does  not  necessarily  contain  any  re- 
ligious element  whatever.     But  on  the   other  hand,  a  sense  of 


268  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

Dependence  on  Personal  or  Living  Agencies,  whether  tney  are 
supposed  to  be  supreme  or  only  superior  to  our  own,  is  a  feel- 
ing which  is  essentially  religious.*  But  the  element  in  that 
feeling  which  makes  it  religious  is  the  element  of  belief  in  a 
Being  or  in  Beings  who  have  Power  and  Will  When  we  say 
of  any  man,  or  of  any  tribe  of  men,  that  they  have  no  Religion, 
we  mean  that  they  have  no  belief  in  the  existence  of  any  such 
Being  or  Beings,  or  at  least  no  such  belief  as  to  require  any 
acknowledgment  or  any  worship. 

The  practice  of  worship  of  some  kind  or  another  is  so  gener- 
ally associated  with  Religion,  that  we  do  not  usually  think  of  it 
otherwise  than  as  a  necessary  accompaniment.  It  is  a  natural 
accompaniment,  for  the  simple  reason  that  in  the  very  act  of 
thinking  of  Superhuman  Beings  the  Mind  has  an  inevitable  ten- 
dency to  think  of  them  as  possessing  not  only  an  intellectual 
but  a  moral  nature  which  has  analogies  with  our  own.  It  con- 
ceives of  them  as  having  dispositions  and  feelings  as  well  as 
mere  Intellect  and  Will.  Complete  indifference  towards  other 
creatures  is  not  natural  or  usual  in  ourselves,  nor  can  it  be  nat- 
ural to  attribute  it  to  other  Beings.  In  proportion  therefore  as 
we  ascribe  to  the  Superhuman  Personalities,  in  whose  existence 
we  believe,  the  Authorship  or  the  rule  over,  or  even  a  mere  part- 
nership in,  the  activities  round  us,  in  the  same  proportion  is  it 
natural  to  regard  those  Beings  as  capable  of  exercising  some  in- 
fluence upon  us,  whether  for  evil  or  for  good.  This  conception 
of  them  must  lead  to  worship — that  is  to  say,  to  the  cherishing 
of  some  feeling  and  sentiment  in  regard  to  them,  and  to  some 
methods  of  giving  it  expression.  There  is,  therefore,  no  mys- 
tery whatever  in  the  usual  and  all  but  universal  association  of 
worship  of  some  kind  with  all  conceptions  of  a  religious  nature. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  however,  that  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
belief  in  the  existence  of  a  God,  or  of  more  Gods  than  one,  has 
come,  though  rarely,  to  be  separated  from  the  worship  of  them. 
Among  speculative  philosophers  this  separation  may  arise  from 
theories  about  the  Divine  nature,  which  represent  it  as  inacces- 
sible to  supplication,  or  as  indifferent  to  the  sentiments  of  men. 

*  Professor  Tiele's  definition  of  Religion  corresponds  with  that  here  given  : — "  The 
relation  between  Man  and  the  Superhuman  Powers  in  which  he  believes."  (Outlines 
of  the  History  of  the  Ancient  Religions,  p.  2.) 


ON   THE   NATURE   AND   ORIGIN    OF    RELIGION.  269 

Among  Savages  it  may  arise  from  the  evolution  of  decay.  It 
may  be  nothing  but  "  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting  " — the  result  of 
the  breaking  up  of  ancient  homes,  and  the  consequent  impossi- 
bility of  continuing  the  practice  of  rites  which  had  become  in- 
separably associated  with  local  usages.  Among  philosophers 
this  divorce  between  the  one  essential  element  of  Religion  and 
the  natural  accompaniments  of  worship,  is  well  exhibited  in  the 
Lucretian  conception  of  the  Olympian  Gods,  as  well  as  in  the 
condition  of  mind  of  many  men  in  our  own  day,  who  have  not 
rejected  the  idea  of  a  God,  but  who  do  not  feel  the  need  of  ad- 
dressing Him  in  the  language  either  of  prayer  or  praise.  Of 
this  same  divorce  among  Savages  we  have  an  example  in  cer- 
tain Australian  tribes,  who  are  said  to  have  a  theology  so  defi- 
nite as  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  one  God,  the  omnipotent 
Creator  of  Heaven  and  of  Earth,  and  yet  to  be  absolutely  desti- 
tute of  any  worship.*  Both  of  these,  however,  are  aberrant 
phenomena — conditions  of  mind  which  are  anomalous,  and  in 
all  probability  essentially  transitional.  It  has  been  shown  in 
the  preceding  pages  how  impossible  it  is  to  regard  Australian 
or  any  other  Savages  of  the  present  time  as  representing  the 
probable  condition  of  Primeval  Man.  It  needs  no  argument  to 
prove  that  it  is  equally  impossible  to  regard  speculative  philoso- 
phers of  any  school  as  representing  the  mind  of  the  earliest  pro- 
genitors of  our  race.  But  neither  of  Savages  nor  of  Philoso- 
phers who  believe  in  a  God  but  do  not  pray  to  Him,  would  it 
be  proper  to  say  that  they  haveno  Religion.  They  may  be  on 
the  way  to  having  none,  or  they  may  be  on  the  way  to  having 
more.  But  men  who  believe  in  the  existence  of  any  Personal 
or  Living  Agency  in  Nature  superior  to  our  own,  are  in  posses- 
sion of  the  one  essential  element  of  all  Religion.  This  belief  is 
almost  universally  associated  with  practices  which  are  in  the  na- 
ture of  worship — with  sentiments  of  awe,  or  of  reverence,  or  of 
fear. 

It  is  not  inconsistent  with  this  definition  to  admit  that  sects 
or  individuals,  who  have  come  to  reject  all  definite  theological 
conceptions  and  to  deny  the  existence  of  a  living  God,  have, 
nevertheless,  been  able  to  retain  feelings  and  sentiments  which 
may  justly  claim  to  be  called  religious.  In  the  first  place,  with 

*Hibbert  Lectures,  by  Max  Muller,  1878,  pp.  16,  17. 


270 


THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 


many  men  of  this  kind,  their  denial  of  a  God  is  not  in  reality  a 
complete  denial.  What  they  deny  is  very  often  only  some  par- 
ticular conception  of  the  Godhead,  which  is  involved,  or  which 
they  think  is  involved,  in  the  popular  theology.  They  are  re- 
pelled, perhaps,  by  the  familiarity  with  which  the  least  elevated 
of  human  passions  are  sometimes  attributed  to  the  Divine  Being. 
Or  they  may  be  puzzled  by  the  anomalies  of  Nature,  and  find  it 
impossible  to  reconcile  them  intellectually  with  any  definite  con- 
ception of  a  Being  who  is  both  all-powerful  and  all-good.  But 
in  faltering  under  this  difficulty,  or  under  other  difficulties  of 
the  same  kind,  and  denying  the  possibility  of  forming  any  clear 
or  definite  conceptions  of  the  Godhead,  they  do  not  necessarily 
renounce  other  conceptions  which,  though  vague  and  indefinite, 
are  nevertheless  sufficient  to  form  the  nucleus  of  a  hazy  atmos- 
phere of  religious  feeling  and  emotion.  Such  men  may  or 
may  not  recognize  the  fact  that  these  feelings  and  emotions 
have  been  inherited  from  ancestors  whose  beliefs  were  purely 
theological,  and  that  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  doubtful  how 
long  these  feelings  can  be  retained  as  mere  survivals. 

It  is  remarkable  that  such  feelings  are  even  now  artificially 
propped  up  and  supported  by  a  system  of  investing  abstract 
terms  with  all  the  elements  of  Personality.     When  men  who 
profess  to  have  rejected  the  idea  of  a  God  declare,  nevertheless^ 
as  Strauss  has  declared,  that  "  the  world  is  to  them  the  work- 
shop of  the  Rational  and  the  Good," — when  they  explain  that 
"  that  on  which  they  feel  themselves  to  be  absolutely  dependent 
is  by  no  means  a  brute  power,  but  that  it  is  Order  and  Law, 
Reason  and  Goodness,  to  which  they  surrender  themselves  with 
loving  confidence,"  we  cannot  be  mistaken  that  the  whole  of 
this  language,  and  the  whole  conceptions  which  underlie  it,  are 
language  and  conceptions  appropriate  to  Agencies  and  Powers 
which  are  possessed  of  all  the  characteristics  of  Mind  and  Will. 
Order  and  Law  are,  indeed,  in   some   minds  associated  with 
nothing  except  Matter  and  material  Forces.     But  neither  Rea- 
son nor  Goodness  can  be   thus  dissociated  from  the  idea  of 
Personality.     All  other  definitions  which  have  been  given  of 
Religion  will  be  found  on  analysis  to  borrow  whatever  strength 
they  have  from  involving,  either  expressly  or  implicitly,  this 
one  conception.     Morality,  for  example,  becomes  Religion  in 


ON    THE    NATURE    AND    ORIGIN    OF    RELIGION.  271 

proportion  as  all  duty  and  all  Obligation  is  regarded  as  resting 
on  the  sanctions  of  a  Divine  Authority.  In  like  manner, 
Knowledge  may  be  identified  with  Religion  in  proportion  as  all 
knowledge  is  summed  up  and  comprehended  in  the  perfect 
knowledge  of  One  who  is  All  in  All.  Nor  is  there  any  real  es- 
cape from  this  one  primary  and  fundamental  element  of  Relig- 
ion in  the  attempt  made  by  Comte  to  set  up  Man  himself — 
Humanity — as  the  object  of  religious  worship.  It  is  the  Hu- 
man Mind  and  Will  abstracted  and  personified  that  is  the  ob- 
ject of  this  worship.  Accordingly,  in  the  system  of  Comte,  it 
is  the  language  of  Christian  and  even  of  Catholic  adoration 
that  is  borrowed  as  the  best  and  fullest  expression  of  its  aspi- 
rations and  desires.  Such  an  impersonation  of  the  Human 
Mind  and  Will,  considered  as  an  aggregate  of  the  past  and  of 
the  future,  and  separated  from  the  individual  who  is  required 
to  worship  it,  does  contain  the  element,  or  at  least  some  faint 
outline  and  shadow  of  the  one  element,  which  has  been  here 
represented  as  essential  to  Religion — the  element,  namely,  of 
some  Power  in  Nature  other  than  mere  brute  Matter  or  mere 
physical  Force — which  Power  is  thought  of  and  conceived  as 
invested  with  the  higher  attributes  of  the  Human  Personality. 

Like  methods  of  analysis  are  sufficient  to  detect  the  same 
element  in  other  definitions  of  Religion,  which  are  much  more 
common.  When,  for  example,  it  is  said  that  "  the  Supernat- 
ural "  or  "  the  Infinite  "  are  the  objects  of  religious  thought, 
the  same  fundamental  conception  is  involved,  and  is  more  or 
less  consciously  intended.  The  first  of  these  two  abstract  ex- 
pressions, "  the  Supernatural,"  is  avowedly  an  expression  for 
the  existence  and  the  agency  of  superhuman  Personalities.  It 
is  objectionable  only  in  so  far  as  it  seems  to  imply  that  such 
agency  is  no  part  of  "  Nature."  This  is  in  one  sense  a  mere 
question  of  definition.  We  may  choose  to  look  upon  our  own 
human  agency  as  an  agency  which  is  outside  of  Nature.  If  we 
do  so,  then,  of  course,  it  is  natural  to  think  of  the  agency  of 
other  Beings  as  outside  of  Nature  also.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  we  choose  to  understand  by  "  Nature  "  the  whole  System  of 
things,  visible  and  invisible,  in  which  we  live  and  of  which  we 
form  a  part,  then  the  belief  in  the  agency  of  other  Beings  of 
greater  power,  does  not  necessarily  involve  any  belief  whatever 


272 


THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 


that  they  are  outside  of  that  System.  On  the  contrary,  the  be- 
lief in  such  an  agency  may  be  identified  with  all  our  concep- 
tions of  what  that  System  as  a  whole  is,  and  especially  of  its 
Order  and  its  Intelligibility.  Whilst  therefore,  "  the  Supernat- 
ural," as  commonly  understood,  gives  a  true  indication  of  the 
only  real  objects  of  religious  thought,  it  complicates  that  indi- 
cation by  coupling  the  idea  of  Living  Agencies  above  our  own 
with  a  description  of  them  which  at  the  best  is  irrelevant,  and 
is  very  apt  to  be  misleading.  The  question  of  the  existence  of 
Living  Beings  superior  to  Man,  and  having  more  or  less  power 
over  him  and  over  his  destinies,  is  quite  a  separate  question 
from  the  relation  in  which  those  Beings  may  stand  to  what  is 
commonly  but  variously  understood  by  "  Nature." 

The  other  phrase,  now  often  used  to  express  the  objects  of 
religious  thought  and  feeling,  "  the  Infinite,"  is  a  phrase  open 
to  objection  of  a  very  different  kind.  It  is  ambiguous,  not 
merely  as  "  the  Supernatural "  is  ambiguous,  by  reason  of  its 
involving  a  separate  and  adventitious  meaning  besides  the 
meaning  which  is  prominent  and  essential ;  but  it  is  ambiguous 
by  reason  of  not  necessarily  containing  at  all  the  one  meaning 
which  is  essential  to  Religion.  "  The  Infinite  "  is  a  pure  and 
bare  abstraction,  which  may  or  may  not  include  the  one  only 
object  of  religious  consciousness  and  thought.  An  Infinite 
Being,  if  that  be  the  meaning  of  "  the  Infinite,"  is,  indeed,  the 
highest  and  most  perfect  object  of  Religion.  But  an  infinite 
space  is  no  object  of  religious  feeling.  An  infinite  number  of 
material  units  is  no  object  of  religious  thought.  Infinite  time 
is  no  object  of  religious  thought.  On  the  other  hand,  infinite 
Power  not  only  may  be,  but  must  be,  an  object  of  religious 
contemplation  in  proportion  as  it  is  connected  with  the  idea  of 
Power  in  a  living  Will.  Infinite  Goodness  must  be  the  object 
of  religious  thought  and  emotion,  because  in  its  very  nature 
this  conception  involves  that  of  a  Personal  Being.  But  if  all 
this  is  what  is  intended  by  "  the  Infinite,"  then  it  would  be  best 
to  say  so  plainly.  The  only  use  of  the  phrase,  as  the  one  se- 
lected to  indicate  the  object  of  Religion,  is  that  it  may  be  un- 
derstood in  a  sense  that  is  kept  out  of  sight.  And  the  expla- 
nations which  have  been  given  of  it  are  generally  open  to  the 
same  charge  of  studied  ambiguity.  "  The  Infinite  "  has  been 


ON   THE   NATURE   AND   ORIGIN   OF    RELIGION.  273 

defined  as  that  which  transcends  Sense  and  Reason, — that 
which  cannot  be  comprehended  or  completely  and  wholly 
understood,  although  it  may  be  apprehended  or  partially  con- 
ceived.* And  no  doubt,  if  this  definition  be  applied,  as  by  im- 
plication it  always  is  applied,  to  the  Power  and  to  the  resources, 
or  to  any  other  feature  in  the  character  of  an  Infinite  Being, 
then  it  becomes  a  fair  definition  of  the  highest  conceivable  ob- 
ject of  religious  thought.  But,  again,  if  it  be  not  so  applied, — 
if  it  be  understood  as  only  applying  to  the  impossibility  under 
which  we  find  ourselves  of  grasping  anything  which  is  limit- 
less,— of  counting  an  infinite  number  of  units, — of  traversing, 
even  in  thought,  an  infinite  space, — of  living  out  an  infinite 
time, — then  "the  Infinite  "  does  not  contain,  even  in  the  least 
degree,  the  one  essential  element  which  constitutes  Religion. 

Similar  objections  apply  to  another  abstract  phrase,  some- 
times used  as  a  definition  of  the  object  of  religious  feeling, 
namely,  "  the  Invisible."  Mere  material  things,  which  are 
either  too  large  to  be  wholly  seen,  or  too  small  to  be  seen  at 
all,  can  never  supply  the  one  indispensable  element  of  Relig- 
ion. In  so  far,  therefore,  as  Invisibility  applies  to  them  only, 
it  suggests  nothing  of  a  religious  nature.  But  in  so  far  as 
"  the  Invisible  "  means,  and  is  intended  to  apply  to,  living  Be- 
ings who  are  out  of  sight,  to  Personal  Agencies  which  either 
have  no  bodily  form,  or  who  are  thought  of  and  conceived  as 
separate  from  such  form — in  so  far,  of  course,  the  "  Invisible," 
like  the  Infinite,  does  cover  and  include  the  conception  without 
which  there  can  be  no  Religion. 

Definitions  of  meaning  are  more  or  less  important  in  all  dis* 
cussions  ;  but  there  are  many  questions  in  which  they  are  by 
no  means  essential,  because  of  the  facility  with  which  we  refer 
the  abstract  words  we  may  be  using  to  the  concrete  things, — 
to  the  actual  phenomena  to  which  they  are  applied.  When, 
for  example,  we  speak  of  the  religion  of  Mahomet,  or  of  the 
religion  of  Confucius,  or  of  the  religion  of  Buddha,  we  do  not 
need  to  define  what  we  mean  by  the  word  "  Religion,"  because 
in  all  of  these  cases  the  system  of  doctrine  and  the  conceptions 
which  constitute  those  religions  are  known,  or  are  matters  of 
historical  evidence.  But  when  we  come  to  discuss  the  origin, 

*  Max  Muller,  Hibbert  Lectures,  1878. 
I? 


274  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

not  of  any  particular  system  of  Belief,  but  of  Religion  in  the 
abstract,  some  clear  and  intelligible  definition  of  the  word  Re- 
ligion becomes  absolutely  essential,  because  in  that  discussion 
we  are  dealing  with  a  question  which  is  purely  speculative.  It 
is  idle  to  enter  upon  that  speculative  discussion  unless  we  have 
some  definite  understanding  what  we  are  speculating  about. 
In  the  case  of  Religion  we  cannot  keep  our  understanding  of 
the  word  fresh  and  distinct  by  thinking  of  any  well-known  and 
admitted  facts  respecting  the  beginnings  of  Belief.  There  are 
no  such  facts  to  go  upon  as  regards  the  religion  of  Primeval 
Man.  Those,  indeed,  who  accept  the  narrative  attributed  to 
the  inspired  authority  of  the  Jewish  Lawgiver  have  no  need  to 
speculate.  In  that  narrative  the  origin  of  Religion  is  identified 
with  the  origin  of  Man,  and  the  Creator  is  represented  as  hav- 
ing had,  in  some  form  or  another,  direct  communication  with 
the  Creature  He  had  made.  But  those  who  do  not  accept  that 
narrative,  or  who,  without  rejecting  it  altogether,  regard  it  as  so 
full  of  metaphor  that  it  gives  us  no  satisfying  explanation,  and 
who  assumes  that  Religion  has  had  an  origin  subsequent  to  the 
origin  of  the  Species,  have  absolutely  nothing  to  rely  upon  in 
the  nature  of  History.  There  is  no  contemporary  evidence, 
nor  is  there  any  tradition  which  can  be  trusted.  Primeval  Man 
has  kept  no  journal  of  his  own  first  religious  emotions,  any 
more  than  of  his  own  first  appearance  in  the  world.  We  are 
therefore  thrown  back  upon  pure  speculation — speculation,  in- 
deed, which  may  find  in  the  present,  and  in  a  comparatively 
recent  past,  some  data  for  arriving  at  conclusions,  more  or  less 
probable,  on 'the  conditions  of  a  time  which  is  out  of  sight. 
But  among  the  very  first  of  these  data,  if  it  be  not  indeed  the 
one  datum  without  which  all  others  are  useless,  is  a  clear  con- 
ception of  the  element  which  is  common  to  all  Religions  as 
they  exist  now,  or  as  they  can  be  traced  back  beyond  the  dawn 
of  History  into  the  dim  twilight  of  Tradition.  Of  this  universal 
element  in  all  religions  "  the  Infinite  "  is  no  definition  at  all. 
It  is  itself  much  more  vague  and  indefinite  in  meaning  than  the 
word  which  it  professes  to  explain.  And  this  is  all  the  more 
needless,  seeing  that  the  common  element  in  all  Religions, 
such  as  we  know  them  now,  is  one  of  the  greatest  simplicity.  It 


ON   THE    NATURE   AND   ORIGIN   OF   RELIGION.  275 

is  the   element  of  a  Belief  in  superhuman  Beings — in    living 
Agencies,  other  and  higher  than  our  own. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  the  path  of  investigation  is 
cleared  before  us  the  moment  we  have  arrived  at  this  definition 
of  the  Belief  which  is  fundamental  to  all  Religions.  That  Be- 
lief is  simply  a  Belief  in  the  existence  of  Beings  of  whom  our 
own  Being  is  the  type,  although  it  need  not  be  the  Measure  or 
the  Form.  By  the  very  terms  of  the  definition  the  origin  of 
this  Belief  is  and  must  be  in  ourselves— in  our  own  conscious 
relationship  to  external  facts.  That  is  to  say,  the  disposition 
to  believe  in  the  existence  of  such  Beings  arises  out  of  the  felt 
Unity  of  our  own  nature  with  the  whole  System  of  things  in 
which  we  live  and  of  which  we  are  a  part.  It  is  the  simplest 
and  most  natural  of  all  conceptions,  that  the  Agency  of  which 
we  are  most  conscious  in  ourselves  is  like  the  Agency  which 
works  in  the  world  around  us.  Even  supposing  this  concep- 
tion to  be  groundless,  and  that,  as  some  now  maintain,  a  more 
scientific  investigation  of  natural  agencies  abolishes  the  con. 
ception  of  Design  or  Purpose,  or  of  personal  Will  being  at  all 
concerned  therein, — even  supposing  this,  it  is  not  the  less  true 
that  the  transfer  of  conceptions  founded  on  our  own  conscious- 
ness of  Agency  and  of  Power  within  us  to  the  Agencies  and 
Powers  around  us,  is  a  natural,  if  it  be  not  indeed  a  necessary, 
conception.  That  it  is  a  natural  conception  is  proved  by  the 
fact  that  it  has  been,  and  still  is,  so  widely  prevalent ;  as  well 
as  by  the  fact  that  what  is  called  the  purely  scientific  concep- 
tion of  Natural  Agencies  is  a  modern  conception,  and  one 
which  is  confessedly  of  difficult  attainment.  So  difficult  indeed 
is  it  to  expel  from  the  mind  the  conception  of  Personality  in  or 
behind  the  Agencies  of  Nature,  that  it  may  fairly  be  questioned 
whether  it  has  ever  been  effectually  done.  Verbal  devices  for 
keeping  the  idea  out  of  sight  are  indeed  very  common ;  but 
even  these  are  not  very  successful.  I  have  elsewhere  pointed 
out  *  that  those  naturalists  and  philosophers  who  are  most  op- 
posed to  all  theological  explanations  or  conceptions  of  natural 
Forces  do,  nevertheless,  habitually,  in  spite  of  themselves,  have 
recourse  to  language  which  derives  its  whole  form,  as  well  as 
its  whole  intelligibility,  from  those  elements  of  meaning  which 

.     , .  *  "  Reign  of  Law,"  chaps,  i.  and  v. 


276  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

refer  to  the  familiar  operations  of  our  own  Mind  and  Will. 
The  very  phrase  "  Natural  Selection  "  is  one  which  likens  the 
operations  of  Nature  to  the  operations  of  a  Mind  exercising 
the  power  of  Choice.  The  whole  meaning  of  the  phrase  is  to 
indicate  how  Nature  attains  certain  ends  which  are  like  "  Selec- 
tion." And  what  "  Selection  "  is  we  know,  because  it  is  an 
operation  familiar  to  ourselves.  But  the  personal  element  of 
Will  and  of  Purpose  lies  even  deeper  than  this  in  the  scientific 
theory  of  Evolution.  When  we  ourselves  select,  we  may  very 
often  choose  only  among  things  ready  made  to  our  hands.  But 
in  the  theory  of  Evolution,  Nature  is  not  merely  represented  as 
choosing  among  things  ready  made,  but  as  at  first  making  the 
things  which  are  to  be  afterwards  fitted  for  selection.  Organs 
are  represented  as  growing  in  certain  forms  and  shapes  "  in 
order  that  "  they  may  serve  certain  uses,  and  then  as  being 
"  selected  "  by  that  use  in  order  that  they  may  be  established 
and  prevail.  The  same  idea  runs  throughout  all  the  detailed 
descriptions  of  growth  and  of  development  by  which  these  proc- 
esses are  directed  to  useful  and  serviceable  results.  So  long 
as  in  the  mere  description  of  phenomena  men  find  themselves 
compelled  to  have  recourse  to  language  of  this  sort,  they  have 
not  emancipated  themselves  from  the  natural  tendency  of  all 
human  thought  to  see  the  elements  of  our  own  Personality  in 
the  energies  and  in  the  works  of  Nature. 

But  whether  the  attempt  at  such  emancipation  be  successful 
or  not,  the  very  effort  which  it  requires  is  a  proof  of  the  natural 
servitude  under  which  we  lie.  And  if  it  be  indeed  a  natural 
servitude,  the  difficulty  of  getting  rid  of  it  is  explained.  It  is 
,  hard  to  kick  against  the  pricks.  There  is  no  successful  rebell- 
ion against  the  Servitudes  of  Nature.  The  suggestions  which 
come  to  us  from  the  external  world,  and  which  are  of  such  ne- 
cessity that  we  cannot  choose  but  hear  them,  have  their  origin 
in  the  whole  constitution  and  course  of  things.  To  seek  for 
any  origin  of  them  apart  from  the  origin  of  our  whole  intellect- 
ual nature,  and  apart  from  the  relations  between  that  nature  and 
the  facts  of  the  Universe  around  us,  is  to  seek  for  something 
which  does  not  exist.  We  may  choose  to  assume  that  there 
are  no  Intelligences  in  Nature  superior  to  our  own  ;  but  the 
fact  remains  that  it  is  a  part  of  our  mental  constitution  to  imag- 


ON    THE    NATURE   AND    ORIGIN    OF    RELIGION.  277 

i  <j  otherwise.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  assume  that  such  In- 
telligences do  exist,  then  the  recognition  of  that  existence,  or 
the  impression  of  it,  is  involved  in  no  other  difficulty  than  is  in- 
volved in  the  origin  of  any  other  part  of  the  furniture  of  our 
minds.  What  is  the  origin  of  Reason  ?  The  perception  of 
Logical  Necessity  is  the  perception  of  a  real  relation  between 
things ;  and  this  relation  between  things  is  represented  by  a 
corresponding  relation  between  our  conceptions  of  them.  We 
can  give  no  account  of  the  origin  of  that  perception  unless  we 
can  give  an  account  of  the  origin  of  Man,  and  of  the  whole  sys- 
tem to  which  he  stands  related.  What,  again,  is  the  origin  of 
Imagination  ?  It  is  the  mental  power  by  which  we  handle  the 
elementary  conceptions  derived  from  our  mental  constitution 
in  contact  and  in  harmony  with  external  things,  and  by  which 
we  recombine  these  conceptions  in  an  endless  variety  of  forms. 
We  can  give  no  account  of  the  origin  of  such  a  power  or  of  such 
a  habit.  What  is  the  origin  of  Wonder  ?  In  the  lower  ani- 
mals a  lower  form  of  it  exists  in  the  shape  of  Curiosity,  being 
little  more  than  an  impulse  to  seek  for  that  which  may  be  food, 
or  to  avoid  that  which  may  be  danger.  But  in  Man  it  is  one  of 
the  most  powerful  and  the  most  fruitful  of  all  his  mental  char- 
acteristics. Of  its  origin  we  can  give  no  other  account  than 
that  there  exists  in  Man  an  indefinite  power  of  knowing,  in  con- 
tact with  an  equally  indefinite  number  of  things  which  are  to 
him  unknown.  Between  these  two  facts  the  connecting  link  is 
the  wish  to  know.  And,  indeed,  if  the  System  of  Nature  were 
not  a  Reasonable  System,  the  power  of  knowing  might  exist  in 
Man  without  any  wish  to  use  it.  But  the  System  of  Nature, 
being  what  it  is — a  System  which  is  the  very  embodiment  of 
Wisdom  and  Knowledge — such  a  departure  from  its  Unity  is 
impossible.  That  Unity  consists  in  the  universal  and  rational 
correspondence  of  all  its  essential  facts.  There  would  be  no 
such  correspondence  between  the  powers  of  the  human  Mind 
and  the  ideas  which  they  are  fitted  to  entertain,  if  these  powers 
were  not  incited  by  an  appetite  of  inquiry.  Accordingly,  the 
desire  of  knowledge  is  as  much  born  with  Man  as  the  desire  of 
food.  The  impression  that  there  are  things  around  him  which 
he  does  not  know  or  understand,  but  which  he  can  know  and 
understand  by  effort  and  inquiry,  is  so  much  part  of  Man's  Na- 


278  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

ture  that  Man  would  not  be  Man  without  it.  Religion  is  bur  d 
part  of  this  impression — or  rather  it  is  the  sum  and  consumma- 
tion of  all  the  intimations  from  which  this  impression  is  derived. 
Among  the  things  of  which  he  has  an  impression  as  existing, 
and  respecting  which  he  desires  to  know  more,  are,  above  all 
other  things,  Personalities  or  Agencies,  or  Beings  having  pow- 
ers like,  but  superior  to,  his  own.  This  is  Religion.  In  this 
impression  is  to  be  found  the  origin  of  all  Theologies.  But  of 
its  own  origin  we  can  give  no  account  until  we  know  the  origin 
of  Man. 

I  have  dwelt  upon  this  point  of  definition  because  those  who 
discuss  the  origin  of  Religion  seem  very  often  to  be  wholly  un- 
conscious of  various  assumptions  which  are  necessarily  involved 
in  the  very  question  they  propound.  One  of  these  assumptions 
clearly  is  that  there  was  a  time  when  Man  existed  without  any 
feeling  or  impression  that  any  Being  or  Beings  superior  to  him- 
self existed  in  Nature  or  behind  it.  The  assumption  is  that 
the  idea  of  the  existence  of  such  Beings  is  a  matter  of  high  and 
difficult  attainment,  to  be  reached  only  after  some  long  process 
of  evolution  and  development.  Whereas  the  truth  may  very 
well  be,  and  probably  is,  that  there  never  was  a  time  since  Man 
became  possessed  of  the  mental  constitution  which  separates 
him  from  the  Brutes,  when  he  was  destitute  of  some  conception 
of  the  existence  of  living  Agencies  other  than  his  own.  Instead 
of  being  a  difficult  conception,  it  may  very  well  turn  out  to  be, 
on  investigation,  the  very  simplest  of  all  conceptions.  The 
real  difficulty  may  lie  not  in  entertaining  it,  but  in  getting  rid  of 
it,  or  in  restraining  its  undue  immanence  and  power.  The  rea- 
son of  this  difficulty  is  obvious.  Of  all  the  Intuitive  Faculties 
which  are  peculiar  to  Man,  that  of  Self-consciousness  is  the 
most  prominent.  In  virtue  of  that  faculty  or  power,  without 
any  deliberate  reasoning  or  logical  process  of  any  formal  kind, 
Man  must  have  been  always  familiar  with  the  idea  of  energies 
which  are  themselves  invisible,  and  only  to  be  seen  in  their  ef- 
fects. His  own  loves  and  hates,  his  own  gratitude  and  revenge, 
his  own  schemes  and  resolves,  must  have  been  familiar  to  him 
from  the  first  as  things  in  themselves  invisible,  and  yet  having 
power  to  determine  the  most  opposite  and  the  most  decisive 
changes  for  good  or  evil  in  things  which  are  visible  and  mate- 


ON   THE    NATURE   AND   ORIGIN   OF   RELIGION.  279 

rial.  It  never  could  have  been  difficult  for  him,  therefore,  to 
separate  the  idea  of  Personality,  or  of  the  efficiency  of  Mind 
and  Will,  from  the  attribute  of  visibility.  It  never  could  have 
been  any  difficulty  with  him  to  think  of  living  Agencies  other 
than  his  own,  and  yet  without  any  Form,  or  with  Forms  con- 
cealed from  sight.  There  is  no  need  therefore  to  hunt  farther 
afield  for  the  origin  of  this  conception  than  Man's  own  con- 
sciousness of  himself.  There  is  no  need  of  going  to  the  winds 
which  are  invisible,  or  to  the  heavenly  bodies  which  are  intan- 
gible, or  to  the  sky  which  is  immeasurable.  None  of  these,  in 
virtue  either  of  mere  invisibility,  or  of  mere  intangibility,  or  of 
mere  immeasurableness,  could  have  suggested  the  idea  which 
is  fundamental  in  Religion.  That  idea  was  indeed  supplied  to 
Man  from  Nature ;  but  it  was  from  his  own  nature  in  commun- 
ion with  the  nature  of  all  things  around  him.  To  conceive  of 
the  energies  that  are  outside  of  him  as  like  the  energies  that  he 
feels  within  him,  is  simply  to  think  of  the  unknown  in  terms  of 
the  familiar  and  the  known.  To  think  thus  can  never  have 
been  to  him  any  matter  of  difficult  attainment.  It  must  have 
been,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  the  earliest,  the  simplest, 
and  the  most  necessary  of  all  conceptions. 

The  conclusion,  then,  to  which  we  come  from  this  analysis  of 
Religion  is  that  there  is  no  reason  to  believe,  but  on  the  con- 
trary many  reasons  to  disbelieve,  that  there  ever  was  a  time 
when  Man,  with  his  existing  constitution,  lived  in  contact  with 
the  Forces  and  in  face  of  the  Energies  of  Nature,  and  yet  with 
no  impression  or  belief  that  in  those  energies,  or  behind  them, 
there  were  Living  Agencies  other  than  his  own.  And  if  Man, 
ever  since  he  became  Man,  had  always  some  such  impression 
or  Belief,  then  he  always  had  a  Religion,  and  the  question  of 
its  origin  cannot  be  separated  from  the  origin  of  the  Species. 

It  is  a  part  of  the  Unity  of  Nature  that  the  clear  perception 
of  any  one  truth  leads  almost  always  to  the  perception  of  some 
other,  which  follows  from  or  is  connected  with  the  first.  And 
so  it  is  in  this  case.  The  same  analysis  which  establishes  a 
necessary  connection  between  the  self-consciousness  of  Man 
and  the  one  fundamental  element  of  all  religious  emotion  and 
Belief,  establishes  an  equally  natural  connection  between  an- 
other part  of  the  same  self-consciousness  and  certain  tendencies 


280  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

in  the  development  of  Religion  which  we  know  to  have  been 
widely  prevalent.  For  although  in  the  operations  of  our  own 
Mind  and  Spirit,  with  their  strong  and  often  violent  emotions, 
we  ire  familiar  with  a  powerful  Agency  which  is  in  itself  invisi- 
ble, yet  it  is  equally  true  that  we  are  familiar  with  that  Agency 
as  always  working  in  and  through  a  Body.  It  is  natural,  there- 
fore, when  we  think  of  Living  Agencies  in  Nature  other  than 
our  own,  to  think  of  them  as  having  some  Form,  or  at  least  as 
having  some  Abode.  Seeing,  however,  and  knowing  the  work 
of  those  Agencies  to  be  work  exhibiting  power  and  resources  so 
much  greater  than  our  own,  there  is  obviously  unlimited  scope 
for  the  imagination  in  conceiving  what  that  Form  and  where 
that  Abode  maybe.  Given,  therefore,  these  two  inevitable  ten- 
dencies of  the  human  Mind — the  tendency  to  believe  in  the  ex- 
istence of  Personalities  other  than  our  own,  and  the  tendency 
to  think  of  them  as  living  in  some  Shape  and  in  some  Place — 
we  have  a  natural  and  sufficient  explanation,  not  only  of  the  ex- 
istence of  Religion,  but  of  the  thousand  forms  in  which  it  has 
found  expression  in  the  worlcF.  For  as  Man  since  he  became 
Man,  in  respect  to  the  existing  powers  and  apparatus  of  his 
Mind,  has  never  been  without  the  consciousness  of  Self,  nor 
without  some  desire  of  interpreting  the  things  around  him  in 
terms  of  his  own  thoughts,  so  neither  has  he  been  without  the 
power  of  imagination.  By  virtue  of  it  he  recombines  into  count- 
less new  forms  not  only  the  Images  of  Sense  but  his  own  in- 
stinctive interpretations  of  them.  Obviously  we  have  in  this 
faculty  the  prolific  source  of  an  infinite  variety  of  conceptions 
which  may  be  pure  and  simple  or  foul  and  unnatural,  according 
to  the  elements  supplied  out  of  the  moral  and  intellectual  char- 
acter of  the  minds  which  are  imagining.  Obviously,  too,  we 
have  in  this  process  an  unlimited  field  for  the  development  of 
good  or  of  evil  germs.  The  work  which  in  the  last  chapter  I 
have  shown  to  be  the  inevitable  work  of  Reason  when  it  starts 
from  any  datum  which  is  false,  must  be,  in  religious  conceptions 
above  all  others,  a  work  of  rapid  and  continuous  evolution. 
The  steps  of  Natural  Consequence,  when  they  are  downward 
here,  must  be  downwards  along  the  steepest  gradients.  It  must 
be  so  because  the  conceptions  which  men  have  formed  respect- 
ing the  Supreme  Agencies  in  Nature  are  of  necessity  concep- 


ON    THE   NATURE   AND   ORIGIN   OF    RELIGION.  281 

tions  which  give  energy  to  all  the  springs  of  Action.  They  touch 
the  deepest  roots  of  Motive.  In  Thought  they  open  the  most 
copious  fountains  of  Suggestion.  In  Conduct  they  affect  the 
supreme  influence  of  Authority,  and  the  next  most  powerful  of 
all  influences,  the  influence  of  Example.  Whatever  may  have 
been  false  or  wrong,  therefore,  from  the  first  in  any  religious 
conception  must  inevitably  tend  to  become  worse  and  worse 
with  time,  and  with  the  temptation  under  which  men  have  lain 
to  follow  up  the  steps  of  evil  consequence  to  their  most  extreme 
conclusions. 

Armed  with  the  certainties  which  thus  arise  out  of  the  very 
nature  of  the  conceptions  we  are  dealing  with  when  we  inquire 
into  the  origin  of  Religion,  we  can  now  approach  that  question 
by  consulting  the  only  other  sources  of  authentic  information, 
which  are,  first,  the  facts  which  Religion  presents  among  the 
existing  generations  of  men  ,  and,  secondly,,  such  facts  as  can 
be  safely  gathered  from  the  records  of  the  past. 

On  one  main  point  which  has  been  questioned  respecting  ex- 
isting facts,  the  progress  of  inquiry  seems  to  have  established 
beyond  any  reasonable  doubt  that  no  race  of  men  now  exists  so 
savage  and  degraded  as  to  be,  or  to  have  been  when  discovered, 
wholly  destitute  of  any  conceptions  of  a  religious  nature.  It  is 
now  well  understood  that  all  the  cases  in  which  the  existence  of 
such  savages  has  been  reported,  are  cases  which  break  down 
upon  more  intimate  knowledge  and  more  scientific  inquiry. 

Such  is  the  conclusion  arrived  at  by  a  careful  modern  in- 
quirer, Professor  Tiele,  who  says  :  "The  statement  that  there 
are  nations  or  tribes  which  possess  no  religion,  rests  either 
on  inaccurate  observations  or  on  a  confusion  of  ideas.  No 
tribe  or  nation  has  yet  been  met  with  destitute  of  belief  in  any 
higher  Beings,  and  travellers  who  asserted  their  existence  have 
been  afterwards  refuted  by  facts.  It  is  legitimate,  therefore,  to 
call  Religion,  in  its  most  general  sense,  an  universal  phenome- 
non of  humanity."  * 

Although  this  conclusion  on  a  matter  of  fact  is  satisfactory, 
it  must  be  remembered  that,  even  if  it  had  been  true  that  some 
Savages  do  exist  with  no  conception  whatever  of  Living  Beings 
higher  than  themselves,  it  would  be  no  proof  whatever  that  such 

*  "  History  of  Religion,"  p.  6. 


282  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

was  the  primeval  condition  of  Man.  The  arguments  adduced 
in  a  former  chapter,  that  the  most  degraded  savagery  of  the  pres- 
ent day  is  or  may  be  the  result  of  Evolution  working  upon 
highly  unfavorable  conditions,  are  arguments  which  deprive 
such  facts,  even  if  they  existed,  of  all  value  in  support  of  the  as- 
sumption that  the  lowest  savagery  was  the  condition  of  the  first 
progenitors  of  our  race.  Degradation  being  a  process  which 
has  certainly  operated,  and  is  now  operating  upon  some  races, 
and  to  some  extent,  it  must  always  remain  a  question  how  far 
this  process  may  go  in  paralyzing  the  activity  of  our  higher 
powers,  or  in  setting  them,  as  it  were,  to  sleep.  It  is  well,  how- 
ever, that  we  have  no  such  problem  to  discuss.  Whether  any  Sav- 
ages exist  with  absolutely  no  religious  conceptions  is,  after  all,  a 
question  of  subordinate  importance  ;  because  it  is  certain  that, 
if  they  exist  at  all,  they  are  a  very  extreme  case  and  a  very  rare 
exception.  It  is  notorious  that,  in  the  case  of  most  Savages 
and  of  all  Barbarians,  not  only  have  they  some  Religion,  but 
their  Religion  is  one  of  the  very  worst  elements  in  their  sav- 
agery or  their  barbarism. 

Looking  now  to  the  facts  presented  by  the  existing  Religions 
of  the  world,  there  is  one  of  these  facts  which  at  once  arrests 
attention,  and  that  is  the  tendency  of  all  Religions,  whether 
savage  or  civilized,  to  connect  the  Personal  Agencies  who  are 
feared  or  worshipped  with  some  material  object.  The  nature 
of  that  connection  may  not  be  always — it  may  not  be  even  in 
any  case — perfectly  clear  and  definite.  The  rigorous  analysis 
of  our  own  thoughts  upon  such  subjects  is  difficult,  even  to  the 
most  enlightened  men.  To  rude  ar.d  savage  men  it  is  impossi- 
ble. There  is  no  mystery,  therefore,  in  the  fact  that  the  con- 
nection which  exists  between  various  material  objects  and  the 
Beings  who  are  worshipped  in  them  or  through  them,  is  a  con- 
nection which  remains  generally  vague  in  the  mind  of  the  wor- 
shipper himself.  Sometimes  the  material  object  is  an  Embodi- 
ment ;  sometimes  it  is  a  Symbol ;  often  it  may  be  only  an 
Abode.  Nor  is  it  wonderful  that  there  should  be  a  like  variety 
in  the  particular  objects  which  have  come  to  be  so  regarded. 
Sometimes  they  are  such  material  objects  as  the  heavenly  bod- 
ies. Sometimes  they  are  natural  productions  of  our  own  Plan- 
et, such  as  particular  trees,  or  particular  animals,  or  particular 


ON    THE    NATURE  AND   ORIGIN   OF    RELIGION.  283 

things  in  themselves  inanimate,  such  as  springs,  or  streams,  or 
mountains.  Sometimes  they  are  manufactured  articles,  stones 
or  blocks  of  wood  cut  into  some  shape  which  has  a  meaning 
either  obvious  or  traditional. 

The  universality  of  this  tendency  to  connect  some  material 
objects  with  religious  worship,  and  the  immense  variety  of 
modes  in  which  this  tendency  has  been  manifested,  is  a  fact 
which  receives  a  full  and  adequate  explanation  in  our  natural 
disposition  to  conceive  of  all  Personal  Agencies  as  living  in 
some  Form  and  in  some  Place  or  as  having  some  other  special 
connection  with  particular  things  in  Nature.  Nor  is  it  difficult 
to  understand  how  the  Embodiments,  or  the  Symbols,  or  the 
Abodes,  which  may  be  imagined  and  devised  by  men,  will  vary  ac- 
cording as  their  mental  condition  has  been  developed  in  a  good 
or  in  a  wrong  direction.  And  as  these  imaginings  and  devices 
are  never  as  we  see  them  now  among  Savages,  the  work  of  any 
one  generation  of  men,  but  are  the  accumulated  inheritance  of 
many  generations,  all  existing  systems  of  worship  among  them 
must  be  regarded  as  presumably  very  wide  departures  from  the 
conceptions  which  were  primeval.  And  this  presumption  gains 
additional  force  when  we  observe  the  distinction  which  exists  be- 
tween the  fundamental  conceptions  of  Religious  Belief  and  the 
forms  of  worship  which  have  come  to  be  the  expression  and  em- 
bodiment of  these.  In  the  Religion  of  the  highest  and  best 
races,  in  Christianity  itself,  we  know  the  wide  difference  which 
obtains  between  the  Theology  of  the  Church  and  the  popular 
superstitions  which  have  been  developed  under  it.  These  su- 
perstitions may  be,  and  often  are,  of  the  grossest  kind.  They 
may  be  indeed,  and  in  many  cases  are  known  to  be,  vestiges  of 
Pagan  worship  which  have  survived  all  religious  revolutions  and 
reforms  ;  but  in  other  cases  they  are  the  natural  and  legitimate 
development  of  some  erroneous  Belief  accepted  as  part  of  the 
Christian  Creed.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  Reason  working  on  false 
data  has  been,  as  under  such  conditions  it  must  always  be,  the 
great  agent  in  degradation  and  decay. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ON   THE   CAUSES   OF   RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION. 

THE  considerations  set  forth  in  the  previous  chapter  indicate 
the  fallacies  which  lie  in  our  way  when  we  endeavor  to  collect 
from  the  worship  of  savage  nations  any  secure  conclusions  as 
to  the  origin  of  Religion.  Upon  these  fallacies,  and  upon  no 
more  safe  foundation,  Comte  built  up  his  famous  generalization 
of  the  four  necessary  stages  in  the  history  of  Religion.  First 
came  Fetishism,  then  Polytheism,  and  then  Monotheism,  and 
last  and  latest,  the  heir  of  all  the  ages,  came  Comtism  itself,  or 
the  Religion  of  Humanity,  which  is  to  be  the  worship  of  the 
future. 

Professor  Max  Miiller  has  done  memorable  service  in  the 
analysis  and  in  the  exposure  which  he  has  given  us  of  the  ori- 
gin and  use  of  the  word  "  Fetishism,"  and  of  the  theory  which 
represents  it  as  a  necessary  stage  in  the  development  of  Relig- 
ion.* It  turns  out  that  the  word  itself,  and  the  fundamental 
idea  it  embodies,  is  a  word  and  an  idea  derived  from  one  of 
those  popular  superstitions  which  are  so  common  in  connection 
with  Latin  Christianity.  The  Portuguese  sailors  who  first  ex- 
plored the  West  Coast  of  Africa  were  themselves  accustomed 
to  attach  superstitious  value  to  beads,  or  crosses,  or  images,  or 
charms,  and  amulets  of  their  own.  These  were  called  "  feiti 
C.OS."''  They  saw  the  negroes  attaching  some  similar  value  to 
various  objects  of  a  similar  kind,  and  these  Portuguese  sailors 
therefore  described  die  negro  worship  as  the  worship  of 
"  fellies."  President  de  Brosses,  a  French  philosopher  of  the 
Voitairean  epoch  in  literature,  then  extended  the  term  Fetish 
so  as  to  include  not  only  artificial  articles,  but  also  such  great 
natural  features  as  trees,  mountains,  rivers,  and  animals.  In 
this  way  he  was  enabled  to  classify  together,  under  one  indis- 
criminate appellation,  many  different  kinds  of  worship  and 
many  different  stages  in  the  history  of  religious  development  or 

*  u  Hibbert  Lectures,"  1878. 


ON   THE   CAUSES   OF    RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION.  285 

decay.  This  is  an  excellent  example  of  the  crude  theories  and 
false  generalizations  which  have  been  prevalent  on  the  subject 
of  the  origin  of  Religion.  First,  there  is  the  assumption  that 
whatever  is  lowest  in  savagery  must  have  been  primeval — an 
assumption  which,  as  we  have  seen,  is  in  all  cases  improbable, 
and  in  many  cases  must  necessarily  be  false.  Next  there  is 
great  carelessness  in  ascertaining  what  is  really  true  even 
of  existing  Savages  in  respect  to  their  religious  Beliefs.  It 
has  now  been  clearly  ascertained  that  those  very  African 
negroes  whose  superstitious  worship  of  material  articles,  sup- 
posed to  have  some  mysterious  powers  or  virtues,  is  most 
degraded,  do  nevertheless  retain,  behind  and  above  this  wor- 
ship, certain  Beliefs  as  to  the  nature  of  the  Godhead,  which  are 
almost  as  far  above  their  own  abject  superstitions  as  the 
theology  of  a  Fe'ne'lon  is  above  the  superstitions  of  an  ignor- 
ant Roman  Catholic  peasant.  It  is  found  that  some  African 
tribes  have  retained  their  belief  in  one  Supreme  Being,  the 
Creator  of  the  world,  and  the  circumstance  that  nevertheless 
no  worship  may  be  addressed  to  Him  has  received  from  Pro- 
fessor Max  Miiller  an  explanation  which  is  ample.  "  It  may 
arise  from  an  excess  of  reverence  quite  as  much  as  from  negli- 
gence. Thus  the  Odjis  or  Cohantis  call  the  Supreme  Being  by 
the  same  name  as  the  sky  ;  but  they  mean  by  it  a  Personal 
God,  who,  as  they  say,  created  all  things  and  is  the  Giver  of  all 
good  things.  But  though  He  is  omnipresent  and  omniscient, 
knowing  even  the  thoughts  of  men,  and  pitying  them  in  their 
distress,  the  government  of  the  world  is,  as  they  believe* 
deputed  by  Him  to  inferior  Spirits,  and  among  these,  again,  it 
is  the  malevolent  Spirits  only  who  require  worship  and  sacrifice 
from  man."  *  And  this  is  by  no  means  a  solitary  case.  There 
are  many  others  in  which  the  investigations  of  missionaries  re- 
specting the  religious  conceptions  of  savage  nations  have  re- 
vealed the  fact  that  they  have  a  much  higher  theology  than  is 
indicated  in  their  worship. 

The  truth  is,  that  nowhere  is  the  evidence  of  development  in 
a  wrong  direction  so  strong  as  in  the  many  customs  of  savage 
and  barbarous  nations  which  are  more  or  less  directly  con- 
nected with  Religion.  The  idea  has  long  been  abandoned  that 

*  "Hibbert  Lectures,"  pp.  107,  Jto8. 


286  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

the  Savage  lives  ki  a  condition  of  freedom  as  compared  with 
the  complicated  obligations  imposed  by  Civilization.  Savages, 
on  the  contrary,  are  under  the  tyranny  of  innumerable  Customs 
which  render  their  whole  life  a  slavery  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave.  And  what  is  most  remarkable  is  the  irrational  charac- 
ter of  most  of  these  Customs,  and  the  difficulty  of  even  imagin- 
ing how  they  can  have  become  established.  They  bear  all  the 
marks  of  an  origin  far  distant  in  time — of  a  connection  with 
doctrines  which  have  been  forgotten,  and  of  conceptions  which 
have  run,  as  it  were,  to  seed.  They  bear,  in  short,  all  the 
marks  of  long  attrition,  like  the  remnants  of  a  bed  of  rock 
which  has  been  broken  up  at  a  distant  epoch  of  geological 
time,  and  has  left  no  other  record  of  itself  than  a  few  worn  and 
incoherent  fragments  in  some  far-off  conglomerate.  Just  as 
these  fragments  are  now  held  together  by  common  materials 
which  are  universally  distributed,  such  as  sand  or  lime,  so  the 
worn  and  broken  fragments  of  old  Religions  are  held  together, 
in  the  shape  of  barbarous  customs,  by  those  common  instincts 
and  aspirations  of  the  human  Mind  which  follow  it  in  all  its 
stages,  whether  of  growth  or  of  decay.  The  rapidity  of  the 
processes  of  degradation  in  Religion,  and  the  extent  to  which 
they  may  go,  depends  on  a  great  variety  of  conditions.  It  has 
gone  very  far  indeed,  and  has  led  to  the  evolution  of  Customs 
and  Beliefs  of  the  most  destructive  kind  among  races  which,  so 
far  as  we  know,  have  never  been  exposed  to  external  conditions 
necessarily  degrading.  The  innate  character  of  this  tendency 
to  corruption,  arising  out  of  causes  inherent  in  the  nature  of 
Man,  becomes  indeed  all  the  more  striking  when  we  find  that 
some  of  the  most  terrible  practices  connected  with  religious  su- 
perstition, are  practices  which  have  become  established  among 
tribes  which  are  by  no  means  in  the  lowest  physical  condition^ 
and  who  inhabit  countries  highly  blest  by  Nature.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  example  of  this  phenomenon  more  remarkable  than 
the  "  customs  "  of  Dahomey,  a  country  naturally  rich  in  pro- 
ducts, and  affording  every  facility  for  the  pursuits  of  a  settled 
and  civilized  life.  Yet  here  we  have  those  terrible  Beliefs 
which  demand  the  constant,  the  almost  daily  sacrifice  of  human 
life,  with  no  other  aim  or  purpose  than  to  satisfy  some  imagi- 
nary Being  with  the  sight  of  clotted  gore  and  with  the  smell  of 


ON    THE    CAUSES   OF    RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION.  287 

putrefying  human  flesh.  This  is  only  an  extreme  and  a  pecul- 
iarly terrible  example  of  a  general  law,  the  operation  of  which 
is  more  or  less  clearly  seen  in  every  one  of  the  Religions  of  the 
heathen  world,  whether  of  the  past  or  of  the  present  time.  In 
the  very  earliest  ages  in  which  we  become  acquainted  with  the 
customs  of  their  worship,  we  find  these  in  many  respects  strange 
and  unaccountable,  except  on  the  supposition  that  even  then 
they  had  come  from  far,  and  had  been  subject  to  endless  devia- 
tions and  corruptions  through  ages  of  a  long  descent. 

Of  no  Religion  is  this  more  true  than  of  that  which  was  as- 
sociated with  the  oldest  Civilization  known  to  us — the  Civiliza- 
tion of  Egypt.  So  strange  is  the  combination  here  of  simple 
and  grand  conceptions  with  grotesque  symbols  and  with  degrad- 
ing objects  of  immediate  worship,  that  it  has  been  the  inex- 
haustible theme  of  curious  explanations.  Why  a  Snake  or  why  a 
Dung-beetle  should  have  been  taken  to  represent  the  Divine 
Being,  and  why  in  the  holiest  recess  of  some  glorious  Temple 
we  find  enshrined  as  the  object  of  adoration  the  image  or  the 
coffin  of  some  beast,  or  bird,  or  reptile,  is  a  question  on  which 
much  learned  ingenuity  has  been  spent.  It  has  been  suggested, 
for  example,  that  a  conquering  race,  bringing  with  it  a  higher 
and  a  purer  faith,  suffered  itself  to  adopt  or  to  embody  in  its 
system  the  lower  symbolism  of  a  local  worship.  But  this  ex- 
planation only  removes  the  difficulty — if  it  be  one — a  step 
farther  back.  Why  did  such  sufferance  arise  ?  why  was  such 
an  adoption  possible  ?  It  was  possible  simply  because  there  is 
an  universal  tendency  in  the  human  Mind  to  developments  in  the 
wrong  direction,  and  especially  in  its  spiritual  conceptions  to 
become  more  and  more  gross  and  carnal. 

Nor  is  it  difficult  to  follow  some,  at  least,  of  the  steps  of  con- 
sequence, that  is  to  say,  the  associations  of  thought,  by  which 
worship  may  become  degraded  when  once  any  serious  error  has 
been  admitted.  Animal  worship,  for  example,  may  possibly 
have  begun  with  very  high  and  very  profound  conceptions. 
We  are  accustomed  to  regard  it  as  a  very  grotesque  and  de- 
graded worship,  and  so  no  doubt  it  was  in  its  results.  But  if 
we  once  allow  ourselves  to  identify  the  Divine  Power  in  Nature 
with  any  one  of  its  operations,  if  we  seek  for  the  visible 
presence  of  the  Creator  in  any  one  of  His  creations,  I  do  not 


288  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

know  that  we  could  choose  any  in  which  that  Presence  seems 
so  imminent  as  in  the  wonderful  Instincts  of  the  lower  ani- 
mals. In  a  previous  chapter  we  have  seen  what  knowledge 
and  what  foreknowledge  there  is  involved  in  some  of  these. 
We  have  seen  how  it  often  seems  like  direct  Inspiration  that 
creatures  without  the  gift  of  Reason  should  be  able  to  do 
more  than  the  highest  human  Reason  could  enable  us  to 
do — how  wonderful  it  is,  for  example,  that  their  prevision  and 
provision  for  the  nurture  and  development  of  their  young, 
should  cover  the  whole  cycle  of  operations  in  that  second  work 
of  creation  which  is  involved  in  the  Metamorphoses  of  insects 
— all  this,  when  we  come  to  think  of  it,  may  well  seem  like  the 
direct  working  of  the  Godhead.  We  have  seen  in  a  former 
chapter  that  men  of  the  highest  genius  in  philosophical  specula- 
tion, like  Descartes,  and  men  of  the  highest  skill  in  the  pop- 
ular exposition  of  scientific  ideas,  like  Professor  Huxley,  have 
been  led  by  these  marvels  of  Instinct  to  represent  the  lower 
animals  as  automata  or  machines.  The  whole  force  and  mean- 
ing of  this  analogy  lies  in  the  conception  that  the  work  done  by 
animals  is  like  the  work  done  by  the  mechanical  contrivances 
of  men.  We  look  always  upon  such  work  as  done  not  by  the 
machine  but  by  the  contriving  Mind  which  is  outside  the 
machine,  and  from  whom  its  adjustments  are  derived.  Funda- 
mentally, however  little  it  may  be  confessed  or  acknowledged, 
this  is  the  same  conception  which,  in  a  less  scientific  age,  would 
take  another  form.  What  is  seen  in  the  action  of  an  automaton 
is  not  the  mechanism  but  the  result,  frhat  result  is  the  work  of 
Mind,  which  seems  as  if  it  were  indwelling  in  the  machine^  In 
like  manner,  what  is  seen  in  animals  is  the  wonderful  things 
they  do ;  and  what  is  not  seen,  and  is  indeed  wholly  incompre- 
hensible, is  the  machinery  by  which  they  are  made  to  do  it. 
Moreover,  it  is  a  machinery  having  this  essential  distinction  from 
all  human  machines,  that  it  is  endowed  with  Life,  which  in  it- 
self also  is  the  greatest  mystery  of  all. 

It  is,  therefore,  no  superficial  observation  of  animals,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  a  deep  pondering  on  the  wonders  of  their  econ- 
omy, which  may  have  first  suggested  them  to  religious  men 
as  at  once  the  Type  and  the  Abode  of  that  Agency  which  is 
supreme  in  Nature.  I  do  not  affirm  as  an  historical  fact  that 


ON    THE   CAUSES    OF    RELIGIOUS    CORRUPTION.  289 

this  was  really  the  origin  of  Animakworship,  because  that  origin 
is  not  historically  known,  and,  like  the  origin  of  Religion  itself, 
it  must  be  more  or  less  a  matter  of  speculation.  Some  animals 
may  have  become  objects  of  worship  from  having  originally 
been  the  subjects  of  sacrifice.  The  victim  may  have  been  so 
associated  with  the  God  to  whom  it  was  devoted  as  to  become 
His  accepted  Symbol.  The  Ox  and  the  Bull  may  well  have 
been  consecrated  through  this  process  of  substitution.  But  no 
such  explanation  can  be  given  in  respect  to  many  animals 
which  have  been  worshipped  as  divine.  Perhaps  no  further 
explanation  need  be  sought  than  that  which  would  be  equally 
required  to  account  for  the  choice  of  particular  plants,  or  par- 
ticular birds  and  fishes,  as  the  badges  of  particular  tribes  and 
families  of  men.  Such  badges  were  almost  universal  in  early 
times,  and  many  of  them  are  still  perpetuated  in  armorial  bear- 
ings. The  selection  of  particular  animals  in  connection  with 
worship  would  be  determined  in  different  localities  by  a  great 
variety  of  conditions.  Circumstances  purely  accidental  might 
determine  it.  The  occurrence,  for  example,  in  some  particular 
region  of  any  animal  with  habits  which  are  at  once  curious  and 
conspicuous,  would  sufficiently  account  for  the  choice  of  it  as 
the  Symbol  of  whatever  idea  these  habits  might  most  readily 
suggest  or  symbolize.  It  is  remarkable,  accordingly,  that  in 
some  cases,  at  least,  we  can  see  the  probable  causes  which 
have  led  to  the  choice  of  certain  creatures.  The  Egyptian 
Beetle,  the  Scarabaeus,  for  example,  represents  one  of  those 
forms  of  Insect  life  in  which  the  marvels  of  Instinct  are  at  once 
very  conspicuous  and  very  curious.  The  characteristic  habit 
of  the  Scarabaeus  Beetle  is  one  which  involves  all  that  mystery 
of  prevision  for  the  development  of  the  species  which  is  common 
among  insects,  coupled  with  a  patient  and  laborious  persever- 
ance in  the  work  required,  which  does  not  seem  directly  asso- 
ciated with  any  mere  appetite  or  with  any  immediate  source  of 
pleasure.  The  instinct  by  which  this  beetle  chooses  the  mate- 
rial which  is  the  proper  nidus  for  its  egg,  the  skill  with  which 
it  works  that  material  into  a  form  suitable  for  the  purpose,  and 
the  industry  with  which  it  then  rolls  it  along  the  ground  till  a 
suitable  position  is  attained — all  these  are  a  striking  combina- 
tion of  the  wonders  of  Animal  Instinct,  and  conspicuous  indica- 
19 


2QO  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

tion  of  the  Spirit  of  Wisdom  and  of  Knowledge  which  may  well 
be  conceived  to  be  present  in  their  work. 

But  although  it  is  in  this  way  easy  to  imagine  how  some 
forms  of  Animal-worship  may  have  had  their  origin  in  the  first 
perception  of  what  is  really  wonderful,  and  in  the  first  admira- 
tion of  what  is  really  admirable,  it  is  also  very  easy  to  see  how, 
when  once  established,  it  would  tend  to  rapid  degradation. 
Wonder  and  reverence  are  not  the  only  emotions  which  impel 
to  worship.  Fear  and  even  horror,  especially  when  accom- 
panied with  any  mystery  in  the  objects  of  alarm,  are  emotions 
suggesting,  perhaps  more  than  any,  that  low  kind  of  worship 
which  consists  essentially  in  -the  idea  of  Deprecation.  Some 
hideous  and  destructive  animals,  such  as  the  Crocodile,  may 
have  become  sacred  objects  neither  on  account  of  anything 
admirable  in  their  instincts  nor  on  account  of  their  destructive- 
ness,  but,  on  the  contrary,  because  of  being  identified  with  an 
agency  which  is  beneficent.  To  those  who  live  in  Egypt,  the 
Nile  is  the  perennial  source  of  every  blessing  necessary  to  life. 
An  animal  so  characteristic  of  that  great  River  may  well  have 
been  chosen  simply  as  the  Symbol  of  all  that  it  was  and  of  all 
that  it  gave  to  men.  There  is  no  mystery,  therefore,  in  the 
Crocodile  being  held  sacred  in  the  worship  of  the  God  of 
Inundation.  But  there  are  other  animals  which  have  been 
widely  invested  with  a  sacred  character,  in  respect  to  which  no 
such  explanation  can  be  given.  The  worship  of  Serpents  has 
been  attributed  to  conceptions  of  a  very  abstract  character — 
with  the  circle,  for  example,  into  which  they  coil  themselves 
considered  as  an  emblem  of  Eternity.  But  this  is  a  conception 
far  too  transcendental  and  far-fetched  to  account  either  for  the 
origin  of  this  worship,  or  for  its  wide  extension  in  the  world. 
Serpents  are  not  the  only  natural  objects  which  present  circular 
forms.  Nor  is  this  attitude  of  their  repose,  curious  and  remark- 
able though  it  be,  the  most  striking  peculiarity  they  present. 
They  have  been  chosen,  beyond  any  reasonable  doubt,  because 
of  the  horror  and  terror  they  inspire.  For  this,  above  all  other 
creatures,  they  are  prominent  in  Nature.  For  their  deceptive 
coloring, — for  their  insidious  approach, — for  their  deadly  virus, 
— they  have  been  taken  as  the  type  of  spiritual  poison  in  the 
Jewish  narrative  of  the  Fall.  The  power  of  inflicting  almost 


ON    THE   CAUSES   OF    RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION.  2f)I 

immediate  death,  which  is  possessed  by  the  most  venomous 
Snakes,  and  that  not  by  violence,  but  by  the  infliction  of  a 
wound  which  in  itself  may  be  hardly  visible,  is  a  power  which 
is  indeed  full  of  mystery  even  to  the  most  cultivated  scientific 
mind,  and  may  well  have  inspired  among  men  in  early  ages  a 
desire  to  pacify  the  Powers  of  Evil.  The  moment  this  becomes 
the  great  aim  and  end  of  worship,  a  principle  is  established 
which  is  fertile  in  the  development  of  every  foul  imagination. 
Whenever  it  is  the  absorbing  motive  and  desire  of  men  to  do 
that  which  may  most  gratify  or  pacify  Malevolence,  then  it 
ceases  to  be  at  all  wonderful  that  men  should  be  driven  by 
their  religion  to  sacrifices  the  most  horrid,  and  to  practices  the 
most  unnatural. 

But  if  we  wish  to  see  an  illustration  and  an  example  of  the 
power  of  all  conceptions  of  a  religious  nature  in  the  rapid  evo- 
lution of  unexpected  consequences,  we  have  such  an  example 
in  the  case  of  one  man  who  has  lived  in  our  own  time,  and  who 
still  lives  in  the  school  which  he  has  founded.  I  refer  to  Au- 
guste  Comte.  It  is  well  known  that  he  denied  the  existence, 
or  at  least  denied  that  we  can  have  any  knowledge  of  the  exist- 
ence, of  such  a  Being  as  other  men  mean  by  God.  Mr.  John  Stu- 
art Mill  has  insisted  with  much  earnestness  and  with  much  force 
that,  in  spite  of  this  denial,  Auguste  Comte  had  a  Religion. 
He  says  it  was  a  Religion  without  a  God.  But  the  truth  is,  that 
it  was  a  Religion  having  both  a  creed  and  an  ideal  object  of  wor- 
ship. That  ideal  object  of  worship  was  an  abstract  conception 
of  the  Mind  so  definitely  invested  with  Personality  that  Comte 
himself  gave  to  it  the  title  of  The  Great  Being  (Grand Eire]. 
The  abstract  conception  thus  personified  was  the  abstract  con- 
ception of  Humanity — Man  considered  in  his  past,  his  present, 
and  his  future.  Clearly  this  is  an  intellectual  Fetish.  It  is 
not  the  worship  of  a  Being  known  or  believed  to  have  any  real 
existence.  It  is  the  worship  of  an  Idea  shaped  and  moulded 
by  the  Mind,  and  then  artificially  clothed  with  the  attributes  of 
Personality.  It  is  the  worship  of  an  article  manufactured  by 
the  imagination,  just  as  Fetishism,  in  its  strictest  meaning,  is 
the  worship  of  an  article  manufactured  by  the  hand.  Nor  is  it 
difficult  to  assign  to  it  a  place  in  that  classification  of  Religions 
in  which  a  loose  signification  has  been  assigned  to  the  term 


2£2  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

Fetishism.  The  worship  of  Humanity  is  merely  one  form  of 
Animal-worship.  Indeed,  Comte  himself  specially  included 
the  whole  Animal  Creation.  It  is  the  worship  of  the  Creature 
Man  as  the  consummation  of  all  other  Creatures,  with  all  the 
marvels  and  all  the  unexhausted  possibilities  of  his  moral  and 
intellectual  nature. 

The  worship  of  this  Creature  may  certainly  be  in  the  nature 
of  a  Religion,  as  much  higher  than  other  forms  of  Animal-wor- 
ship as  Man  is  higher  than  a  Beetle  or  an  Ibis  or  a  Crocodile,  or  a 
Serpent.  But  so  also,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  a  Religion 
as  much  lower  than  the  worship  of  other  animals,  in  proportion 
as  Man  can  be  wicked  and  vicious  in  a  sense  in  which  the 
Beasts  cannot.  Obviously  therefore  such  a  worship  would  be 
liable  to  special  causes  of  degradation.  We  have  seen  it  to  be 
one  of  the  great  peculiarities  of  Man,  as  distinguished  from  the 
lower  animals,  that  whilst  they  always  obey  and  fulfil  the  highest 
law  of  their  Being,  there  is  no  similar  perfect  obedience  in  the 
case  of  Man.  On  the  contrary,  he  often  uses  his  special  powers 
with  such  perverted  ingenuity  that  they  reduce  him  to  a  condi- 
tion more  miserable  and  more  degraded  than  the  condition  of 
any  Beast.  It  follows  that  the  worship  of  Humanity  must,  as  a 
Religion,  be  liable  to  corresponding  degradation.  The  Philos- 
opher, or  the  Teacher,  or  the  Prophet  who  may  first  personify 
this  abstract  conception,  and  enshrine  it  as  an  object  of  worship, 
may  have  before  him  nothing  but  the  highest  aspects  of  human 
nature  and  its  highest  aspirations.  Mill  has  seen  and  has  well 
expressed  the  limitations  under  which  alone  such  a  worship 
could  have  any  good  effect.  "  That  the  ennobling  power  of 
this  grand  conception  may  have  its  full  efficacy,  he  should,  with 
Comte,  regard  the  Grand Etre,  Humanity  or  Mankind,  as  com- 
posed in  the  past  solely  of  those  who,  in  every  age  and  variety 
of  position,  have  played  their  part  worthily  in  life.  It  is  only 
as  thur  restricted  that  the  aggregate  of  our  species  becomes  an 
object  worthy  of  our  veneration."*  This,  no  doubt,  was 
Comte's  own  idea.  But  how  are  his  disciples  and  followers  to  be 
kept  up  to  the  same  high  standard  of  conception  ?  Cftmte 
seems  to  have  been  personally  a  very  high-minded  and  a  very 
pure-minded  man.  His  morality  was  austere,  almost  ascetic, 

*  Mill's  "  Comte  and  Positivism,"  p.  136. 


ON    THE    CAUSES    OF    RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION.  293 

and  his  spirit  of  devotion  found  delight  in  the  spirit  of  the 
Christian  Mystics.  Yet  even  in  his  hands  the  development  of 
his  conceptions  led  him  to  results  eminently  irrational,  although 
it  cannot  be  said  that  they  were  ever  degrading  or  impure. 
But  we  have  only  to  consider  how  comparatively  rare  are  the 
examples  of  the  highest  human  excellence,  and  how  common 
and  prevailing  are  the  vices  and  weaknesses  of  Humanity,  to 
see  how  terrible  would  be  the  possibilities  and  the  probabilities 
of  corruption  in  a  Religion  which  had  Man  for  the  highest  ob- 
ject of  its  worship. 

Nor  is  this  all  that  is  to  be  said  on  the  inevitable  tendency  to 
degradation  which  must  attend  any  worship  of  Humanity.  Not 
only  are  the  highest  forms  of  human  virtue  rare,  but  even  when 
they  do  occur,  they  are  very  apt  to  be  rejected  and  despised  of 
men.  Power  and  strength,  however  vicious  in  its  exercise,  al- 
most always  receives  the  homage  of  the  world.  The  human 
Idols,  therefore,  who  would  be  chosen  as  Symbols  in  the  wor- 
ship of  Humanity  would  often  be  those  who  set  the  very  worst 
examples  to  their  Kind.  Perhaps  no  better  illustration  of  this 
could  be  found  than  the  history  of  Napoleon  Buonaparte.  I 
think  it  is  impossible  to  follow  that  history,  as  it  is  now  known, 
without  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  in  every  sense  of  the 
word  he  was  a  bad  man — unscrupulous,  false,  and  mean.  But 
his  intellect  was  powerful,  whilst  his  force  and  energy  of  char- 
acter were  tremendous.  These  qualities  alone,  exhibited  in  al- 
most unexampled  military  success,  were  sufficient  to  make  him 
the  Idol  of  many  minds.  And  as  mere  success  secured  for 
him  this  place,  so  nothing  but  failure  deprived  him  of  it.  Not 
a  few  of  the  chosen  heroes  of  Humanity  have  been  chosen  for 
reasons  but  little  better.  Comte  himself,  seeing  this  danger, 
and  with  an  exalted  estimate  and  ideal  of  the  character  of 
Womanhood,  had  laid  it  down  that  it  would  be  best  to  select 
some  woman  as  the  symbol,  if  not  the  object  of  private  adora- 
tion in  the  worship  of  Humanity.  The  French  Revolutionists 
selected  a  woman,  too,  and  we  know  the  kind  of  woman  that 
they  chose.  It  may  be  wise,  perhaps,  to  set  aside  this  famous 
episode  in  a  fit  of  national  insanity  as  nothing  more  than  a  pro- 
fane joke  ;  but  the  developments  of  Anthropomorphism  in  the 
mythology  of  the  Pagan  world  are  a  sufficient  indication  of  the 


294  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

kind  of  worship  which  the  worship  of  Humanity  would  certain'^ 
tend  to  be. 

The  result,  then,  of  this  analysis  of  that  in  which  all  Religion 
essentially  consists,  and  of  the  objects  which  it  selects,  or  im- 
agines, or  creates  for  worship,  is  to  show  that  in  Religion  above 
all  other  things  the  processes  of  Evolution  are  especially  liable 
to  work  in  the  direction  of  Degradation.  That  analysis  shows 
how  it  is  that  in  the  domain  of  religious  conceptions,  even  more 
than  in  any  other  domain  of  thought,  the  work  of  Development 
must  be  rapid,  because  in  the  absence  of  Revelation  or  the 
teachings  of  Authority,  fancy  and  imagination  have  no  guide 
and  are  under  no  restraint. 

When,  now,  we  pass  from  the  phenomena  which  Religion  pre- 
sents in  the  present  day  to  what  we  know  of  its  phenomena  in 
the  earliest  historic  times,  the  conclusions  we  have  reached  re- 
ceive abundant  confirmation.  Of  the  origin  of  Religion,  indeed, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  History  can  tell  us  nothing,  because, 
unless  the  Mosaic  narrative  be  accepted,  there  is  no  history  of 
the  origin  of  Man.  But  the  origin  of  particular  systems  of  Re- 
ligion does  come  within  the  domain  of  History,  and  the  testi- 
mony it  affords  is  always  to  the  same  effect.  In  regard  to  them 
we  have  the  most  positive  evidence  that  they  have  been  uni- 
formly subject  to  Degradation.  All  the  great  Religions  of  the 
world  which  can  be  traced  to  the  teaching  or  influence  of  indi- 
vidual men  have  steadily  declined  from  the  teaching  of  their 
Founders.  In  India  it  has  been  one  great  business  of  Christian 
missionaries  and  of  Christian  governors,  in  their  endeavors  to 
put  an  end  to  cruel  and  barbarous  customs,  to  prove  to  the  cor- 
rupt disciples  of  an  ancient  Creed  that  its  first  Prophets  or 
Teachers  had  never  held  the  doctrines  from  which  such  customs 
arise,  or  that  these  customs  are  a  gross  misconception  and  abuse 
of  the  doctrine  which  had  been  really  taught.  Whether  we 
study  what  is  now  held  by  the  disciples  of  Buddha,  of  Confu- 
cius, or  of  Zoroaster,  it  is  the  same  result.  Wherever  we  can 
arrive  at  the  original  teaching  of  the  known  Founders  of  relig- 
ious systems,  we  find  that  teaching  uniformly  higher,  more  spir- 
itual, than  the  teaching  now. 

The  same  law  has  effected  Christianity,  with  this  difference 
only,  that  alone  of  all  the  Historical  Religious  of  the  world  it 


ON   THE   CAUSES   OF   RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION.  295 

has  hitherto  shown  an  unmistakable  power  of  perennial  revival 
and  reform.  But  we  known  that  the  processes  of  corruption 
had  begun  their  work  even  in  the  lifetime  of  the  Apostles  ;  and 
every  Church  in  Christendom  will  equally  admit  the  general 
fact,  although  each  of  them  will  give  a  different  illustration  of 
it.  Mahommedanism,  which  is  the  last  and  latest  of  the  great 
Historical  Religions  of  the  world,  shows  a  still  more  remarka- 
ble phenomenon.  The  corruption  in  this  case  began  not  only 
in  the  lifetime,  but  in  the  life  of  the  Prophet  and  Founder  of 
that  Religion.  Mahomet  was  himself  his  own  most  corrupt  dis- 
ciple. In  the  earliest  days  of  his  mission  he  was  best  as  a  Man 
and  greatest  as  a  Teacher.  His  life  was  purer  and  his  doctrine 
more  spiritual  when  his  voice  was  a  solitary  voice  crying  in  the 
wilderness,  than  when  it  was  joined  in  chorus  by  the  voice  of 
many  millions.  In  his  case  the  progress  of  Development  in  a 
wrong  direction  was  singularly  distinct  and  very  rapid.  Nor  is 
the  cause  obscure.  The  spirit  of  Mahomet  may  well  have  been 
in  close  communion  with  the  Spirit  of  all  truth,  when,  like  St. 
Paul  at  Athens,  his  heart  was  first  stirred  within  him  as  he  saw 
his  Arabian  countrymen  wholly  given  to  idolatry.  Such  deep 
impressions  on  some  everlasting  truth — such  overpowering  con- 
victions— are  in  the  nature  of  Inspiration.  The  intimations  it 
gives  and  the  impulses  it  communicates  are  true  in  thought  and 
righteous  in  motive,  in  exact  proportion  as  the  reflecting  sur- 
faces of  the  human  Mind  are  accurately  set  to  the  lights  which 
stream  from  Nature.  This  is  the  Adjustment  which  gives  all 
their  truthfulness  to  the  intimations  of  the  Senses ;  which 
gives  all  its  wisdom  and  foresight  to  the  wonderful  work  of  In- 
stinct ;  which  gives  all  their  validity  to  the  processes  of  Reason  ; 
which  is  the  real  source  of  all  the  achievements  of  Genius,  and 
which,  on  the  highest  level  of  all,  has  made  some  men  the  in- 
spired Prophets  of  the  Oracles  of  God. 

But  this  is  the  tenderest  of  all  Adjustments — the  most  deli- 
cate, the  most  easily  disturbed.  When  this  Adjustment  is,  as 
it  were,  mechanical,  as  it  is  in  the  lower  animals,  then  we  have 
the  limited,  but,  within  its  own  sphere,  the  perfect  wisdom  of 
the  Beasts.  But  when  this  Adjustment  is  liable  to  distortion 
by  the  action  of  a  Will  which  is  to  some  extent  self-determined 
and  is  also  to  a  large  extent  degraded,  when  the  real  Inspira- 


296  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

tion  is  not  from  without,  but  from  within — then  the  reflecting 
surfaces  of  Mind  are  no  longer  set  true  to  the  Light  of  Nature ; 
and  then,  "  If  the  light  within  us  be  darkness,  how  great  is  that 
darkness  !  "  Hence  it  is  that  one  single  mistake  or  misconcep- 
tion as  to  the  nature  and  work  of  Inspiration  is,  and  must  be,  a 
mistake  of  tremendous  consequence.  And  this  was  Mahomet's 
mistake.  He  thought  that  the  source  of  his  Inspiration  was  di- 
rect, immediate,  and  personal.  He  thought  that  even  the  very 
words  in  which  his  own  impulses  were  embodied  were  dictated 
by  the  Angel  Gabriel.  He  thought  that  the  Supreme  Authority 
which  spoke  through  him  when  he  proclaimed  that  "  the  Lord 
God  Almighty  was  one  God,  the  Merciful,  the  Compassionate," 
was  the  same  which  also  spoke  to  him  when  he  proclaimed  that 
it  was  lawful  for  him  to  take  his  neighbor's  wife.  From  such 
an  abounding  well-spring  of  delusion  the  most  bitter  waters 
were  sure  to  come.  How  different  this  idea  of  the  methods  in 
which  the  Divine  Spirit  operates  upon  the  minds  of  men  from 
the  idea  held  on  the  same  subject  by  that  great  Apostle  of  our 
Lord,  whose  work  it  was  to  spread  among  the  Gentile  world 
those  religious  conceptions  which  had  so  long  been  the  special 
heritage  of  one  peculiar  people  !  How  cautious  St.  Paul  is 
when  expressing  an  opinion  not  directly  sanctioned  by  an  au- 
thority higher  than  his  own  !  "  I  think  also  that  I  have  the 
Spirit  of  God."  The  injunction,  "  Try  the  spirits  whether  they 
be  of  God,"  is  one  which  never  seems  to  have  occurred  to  Ma- 
homet. The  consequences  were  what  might  have  been  ex- 
pected. The  utterances  of  his  Inspiration  when  he  was  hiding 
in  the  caves  of  Mecca  were  better,  purer,  higher  than  those 
which  he  continued  to  pour  forth  when,  after  his  flight  to  Me- 
dina, he  became  a  great  Conqueror  and  a  great  Ruler.  From 
the  very  first  indeed  he  breathed  the  spirit  of  personal  anger 
and  malediction  on  all  who  disbelieved  his  message.  This  root 
of  bitterness  was  present  from  the  beginning.  But  its  develop- 
ments were  indeed  prodigious.  It  was  the  animating  spirit  of 
precepts  without  number  which,  in  the  minds  and  in  the  hands 
of  his  ruthless  followers,  have  inflicted  untold  miseries  for 
twelve,  hundied  years  on  some  of  the  fairest  regions  of  the 
Globe. 
Passing  now  from  the  evidence  of  the  law  of  corruption  and 


ON    THE    CAUSES    OF    RELIGIOUS    CORRUPTION.  297 

decline  which  is  afforded  by  this  last  and  latest  of  the  great 
Historical  Religions  of  the  world,  we  find  the  same  evidence  in 
those  of  a  much  older  date.  In  the  first  place,  all  the  Found- 
ers of  those  Religions  were  themselves  nothing  but  Reformers. 
In  the  second  place,  the  reforms  they  instituted  have  themselves 
all  more  or  less  again  yielded  to  new  developments  of  decay. 
The  great  Prophets  of  the  world  have  all  been  men  of  Inspira- 
tion or  of  Genius  who  were  revolted  by  the  corruptions  of  some 
pre-existing  system,  and  who  desired  to  restore  some  older  and 
purer  faith.  The  form  which  their  reformation  took  was  gener- 
ally determined,  as  all  strong  revolts  are  sure  to  be,  by  violent 
reaction  against  some  prominent  conception  or  some  system  of 
practice  which  seemed,  as  it  were,  an  embodiment  of  its  cor- 
ruption. In  this  way  only,  can  we  account  for  the  peculiar  di- 
rection taken  by  the  teaching  of  that  one  great  historical  Relig- 
ion which  is  said  to  have  more  disciples  than  any  other  in  the 
world.  Buddhism  was  in  its  origin  a  reform  of  Brahminism. 
In  that  system  the  Beliefs  of  a  much  older  and  simple?  age  had 
become  hid  under  the  rubbish-heaps  of  a  most  corrupt  develop- 
ment. Nowhere  perhaps  in  the  world  had  the  work  of  Evolu- 
tion been  richer  in  the  growth  of  briers  and  thorns.  It  had 
forged  the  iron  bonds  of  Caste,  one  of  the  very  worst  inven- 
tions of  an  evil  imagination ;  and  it  had  degraded  worship  into 
a  complicated  system  of  sacrifice  and  of  ceremonial  observ- 
ances. 

There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  the  teaching  of  the  Re- 
former Sakya  Muni  (Buddha)  was  a  revolt  and  a  reform.  It 
was  a  reassertion  of  the  paramount  value  of  a  Life  of  Right- 
eousness. But  the  intellectual  conceptions  which  are  associated 
with  this  great  ethical  and  spiritual  reform  had  within  them- 
selves the  germs  of  another  cycle  of  decay.  These  conceptions 
seem  to  have  taken  their  form  from  the  very  violence  of  the  re- 
vulsion which  they  indicate  and  explain.  The  peculiar  tenet  of 
Buddhism,  which  is  or  has  been  interpreted  to  be  a  denial  of 
any  Divine  Being  or  of  personal  or  individual  Immortality, 
seems  the  strangest  of  all  doctrines  on  which  to  recommend  a 
life  of  virtue,  of  self-denial,  and  of  religious  contemplation. 
But  the  explanation  is  apparently  to  be  found  in  the  extreme 
and  ridiculous  developments  which  the  doctrines  of  Divine  Per- 


298  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

sonality  and  of  individual  Immortality  had  taken  under  the 
Brahminical  system.  These  developments  do  indeed  seem  al- 
most incredible,  if  we  did  not  know  from  many  other  examples 
the  incalculable  wanderings  of  the  human  imagination  in  the 
domain  of  religious  thought.  The  doctrine  of  the  transmigra- 
tion of  Souls  at  death  into  the  bodies  of  Beasts  was  a  doctrine 
pushed  to  such  extravagances  of  conception,  and  yet  believed 
in  with  such  intense  conviction,  that  pious  Brahmins  did  not 
dare  even  to  breathe  the  open  air  lest  by  accident  they  should 
destroy  some  invisible  animalcule  in  which  was  embodied  the 
Spirit  of  their  ancestors.  Such  a  notion  of  Immortality  might 
well  oppress  and  afflict  the  spirit  with  a  sense  of  intolerable  fa- 
tigue. Nor  is  it  difficult  to  understand  how  that  desire  of  com- 
plete Attainment,  which  is,  after  all,  the  real  hope  of  Immortal- 
ity, should  have  been  driven  to  look  for  it  rather  in  reabsorp- 
tion  into  some  one  universal  Essence,  and  so  to  reach  at  last 
some  final  Rest.  Freedom  from  the  burden  of  the  flesh,  ren- 
dered dofrbly  burdensome  by  the  repeated  cycles  of  animal  ex- 
istence which  lay  before  the  Brahmin,  was  the  end  most  natu- 
rally desired.  For  indeed,  complete  annihilation  might  well  be 
the  highest  aspiration  of  souls  who  had  before  them  such  con- 
ceptions of  personal  Immortality  and  its  gifts. 

A  similar  explanation  is  probably  the  true  one  of  the  denial 
of  any  God.  A  prejudice  had  arisen  against  the  very  idea  of 
a  Divine  Being  from  the  concomitant  ideas  which  had  become 
associated  with  Personality.  The  original  Buddhist  denial  of  a 
God  was  probably,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  merely  a  denial  of  the 
grotesque  limitations  which  had  been  associated  with  the  popu- 
lar conception  of  Him.  It  was  a  devout  and  religious  aspect  of 
that  most  unphilosophical  negation  which  in  our  own  days  has 
been  called  the  "  Unconditioned."  In  short,  it  was  only  a 
metaphysical  and  not  an  irreligious,  Atheism.  But  although 
this  was  probably  the  real  meaning  of  the  Buddhistic 
Atheism  in  the  mind  of  its  original  teachers,  and  although 
this  meaning  has  reappeared  and  has  found  intelligent  ex- 
pression among  many  of  its  subsequent  expounders,  it  was  in 
itself  one  of  those  fruitful  germs  of  error  which  are  fatal  in 
any  system  of  Religion.  The  negation  of  any  Divine  Being  or 
Agency,  at  least  under  any  aspect  or  condition  conceivable  by 


ON   THE   CAUSES   OF    RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION.  299 

Man,  makes  a  vacuum  which  nothing  else  can  fill.  Or  rather, 
it  may  be  said  to  make  a  vacuum  which  every  conceivable  im- 
agination rushes  in  to  occupy.  Accordingly  Buddha  himself 
seems  to  have  taken  the  place  of  a  Divine  Being  in  the  worship 
of  his  followers.  His  was  a  real  Personality — his  was  the  Ideal 
Life.  All  history  proves  that  no  abstract  system  of  doctrine, 
no  mere  rule  of  life,  no  dreamy  aspiration,  however  high,  can 
serve  as  an  object  of  worship  for  any  length  of  time.  But  a 
great  and  a  good  Man  can  be  always  deified.  And  so  it  has 
been  with  Buddha.  Still  this  deification  was,  as  it  were,  an 
usurpation.  The  worship  of  himself  was  no  part  of  the  Relig- 
ion he  taught,  and  the  vacuum  which  he  had  created  in  spec- 
ulative Belief  was  one  which  his  own  Image,  even  with  all  the 
swellings  of  tradition,  was  inadequate  to  fill.  And  so  Buddhism 
appears  to  have  run  its  course  through  every  stage  of  mystic 
madness,  of  gross  idolatry,  and  of  true  fetish-worship,  until, 
in  India  at  least,  it  seems  likely  to  be  re-absorbed  in  the  Brah- 
minism  from  which  it  originally  sprang. 

And  so  we  are  carried  back  to  the  origin  of  that  great  Relig- 
ion, Brahminism,  which  already  in  the  sixth  or  seventh  cent- 
ury before  the  Christian  era  had  become  so  degraded  as  to 
give  rise  to  the  revolt  of  Buddha.  The  course  of  its  develop- 
ment can  be  traced  in  an  elaborate  literature  which  may  extend 
over  a  period  of  about  2000  years.  That  development  is  be- 
yond all  question  one  of  the  greatest  interest  in  the  history  of 
Religion,  because  it  concerns  a  region  and  a  race  which  have 
high  traditional  claims  to  be  identified  with  one  of  the 
most  ancient  homes,  and  one  of  the  most  ancient  families  of 
Man.  And  surely  it  is  a  most  striking  result  of  modern  inquiry 
that  in  this,  one  of  the  oldest  literatures  of  the  world,  we  find 
that  the  most  ancient  religious  appellation  is  Heaven-Father, 
and  that  the  words  "  Dyauspitar  "  in  which  this  idea  is  ex- 
pressed are  the  etymological  origin  of  Jupiter — Zewf  7rar;/p — the 
name  for  the  supreme  Deity  in  the  mythology  of  the  Greeks.* 

We  must  not  allow  any  preconceived  ideas  to  obscure  the 
plain  evidence  which  arises  out  of  this  simple  fact.  We  bow  to 
the  authority  of  Sanskrit  scholars  when  they  tell  us  of  it.  But 
we  shall  do  well  to  watch  the  philosophical  explanations  with 

*  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  by  Max  Muller. 


300  THE   UNITY   OF   NATURE. 

which  they  may  accompany  their  intimations  of  its  import. 
Those  who  approach  the  subject  with  the  assumption  that  the 
Idea  of  a  Divine  Being  or  a  Superhuman  Personality  must  be 
a  derivative,,  and  cannot  be  a  primary  conception,  allow  all 
their  language  to  be  colored  by  the  theory  that  vague  per- 
ceptions of  "The  Invisible"  or  "  The  Infinite"  in  rivers, 
or  in  mountains,  or  in  sun  and  moon  and  stars,  were  the  ear- 
liest religious  conceptions  of  the  human  Mind.  But  this  theory- 
cannot  be  accepted  by  those  who  remember  that  there  is  noth- 
ing in  Nature  so  near  to  us  as  our  own  nature, — nothing  so 
mysterious  and  yet  so  intelligible, — nothing  so  invisible,  yet  so 
suggestive  of  energy  and  of  power  over  things  that  can  be  seen. 
Nothing  else  in  Nature  speaks  to  us  so  constantly  or  so  directly. 
Neither  the  Infinite  nor  the  Invisible  contains  any  religious 
element  at  all,  unless  as  conditions  of  a  Being  of  which  in- 
visibility and  infinitude  are  attributes.  There  is  no  proba- 
bility that  any  abstract  conceptions  whatever  about  the  nature 
or  properties  of  material  Force  can  have  been  among  the 
earliest  conceptions  of  the  human  Mind.  Still  less  is  it 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  such  conceptions  were  more  natural 
and  more  easy  conceptions  than  those  founded  on  our  own 
Personality  and  on  the  Personality  of  Parents. 

Yet  it  seems  as  if  it  were  in  deference  to  this  theory  that 
Professor  Max  Miiller  is  disposed  to  deprecate  the  supposition 
that  the  "  Heaven-Father "  of  the  earliest  Vedic  Hymns  is 
rightly  to  be  understood  as  having  meant  "  what  we  mean  by 
God."  Very  probably  indeed  it  may  have  meant  something 
much  more  simple.  But  not  the  less  on  that  account  it  may 
have  meant  something  quite  as  true.  I  do  not  know,  indeed, 
why  we  should  set  any  very  high  estimate  on  the  success  which 
has  attended  the  most  learned  Theologians,  in  giving  anything 
like  form  or  substance  to  our  conceptions  of  the  Godhead. 
Christianity  solves  the  difficulty  by  presenting,  as  the  type  of  all 
true  conceptions  on  the  subject,  the  image  of  a  Divine  Human- 
ity, and  the  history  of  a  perfect  Life.  In  like  manner,  those 
methods  of  representing  the  character  and  attributes  of  the  Al- 
mighty, which  were  employed  to  teach  the  Jewish  people,  were 
methods  all  founded  on  the  same  principle  of  a  sublime  Anthro- 
popsychism.  In  the  New  Testament  there  are  not  less  sublime 


ON    THE   CAUSES    OF    RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION.  301 

Similitudes,  in  which  the  Godhead  is  identified  with  the  high- 
est and  holiest  conceptions  which  we  can  derive  from  the  ma- 
terial or  the  spiritual  world.  Such  are  the  passages,  "  God  is 
Love,"  and  again  "  God  is  Light,  and  in  Him  is  no  Darkness 
at  all."  But  when  we  come  to  the  abstract  definitions  of  sub- 
sequent Theology,  they  invariably  end  either  in  self-contradic- 
tions or  in  words  in  which  beauty  of  rhythm  takes  the  place  of 
intelligible  meaning.  Probably  no  body  of  men  ever  came  to  draw 
up  such  definitions  with  greater  advantages  than  the  Reformers 
of  the  English  Church.  They  had  before  them  all  the  sub- 
lime imagery  of  the  Prophets — all  the  profound  similitudes  of 
the  Apostles — all  the  traditions  of  the  Christian  world — all  the 
language  of  Philosophy — all  the  subtleties  of  the  Schools.  Yet 
of  the  Godhead,  they  can  only  say  as  a  negative  definition,  that 
God  is  "  without  body,  parts,  or  passions."  But,  if  by  "  passion  " 
we  are  to  understand  all  mental  affections,  this  definition  is  not 
only  in  defiance  of  the  whole  language  of  the  Jewish  and  of  the 
Christian  Scriptures,  but  in  defiance  also  of  all  that  is  conceiv- 
able of  the  Being  who  is  the  Author  of  all  good,  and  the  foun- 
tain of  all  love,  but  who  hates  evil,  and  is  angry  with  the  wicked 
every  day.  A  great  master  of  the  English  tongue  has  given 
another  definition  in  which,  among  other  things,  it  is  affirmed 
that  the  attributes  of  God  are  "  incommunicable."  *  Yet,  at 
least,  all  the  good  attributes  of  all  creatures  must  be  conceived 
as  communicated  to  them  by  their  Creator,  in  whom  all  fulness 
dwells. 

I  do  not  know,  therefore,  by  what  title  we  are  to  assume  that 
"  what  we  mean  by  God  "  is  certainly  so  much  nearer  the  truth 
than  the  simplest  conceptions  of  a  Primeval  Age.  It  is  at  least 
possible  that  in  that  Age  there  may  have  been  intimations  of 
the  Divine  Personality,  and  of  the  Divine  Presence  which  we 
have  not  now.  Moreover,  there  may  have  been  developments 
of  error  in  this  high  matter,  which  may  well  shake  our  confi- 
dence in  the  unquestionable  superiority  of  "  what  we  mean  by 
God  "  over  what  may  have  been  meant  and  understood  by  our 
earliest  fathers  in  respect  to  the  Being  whom  they  adored. 
Some  conceptions  of  the  Divine  Being  which  have  been  preva- 
lent in  the  Christian  Church,  have  been  formed  upon  theolog- 

*  J.  H.  Newman,  "  Idea  of  a  University,"  p.  60. 


302  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

ical  traditions  so  questionable  that  the  developments  of  them 
have  been  among  the  heaviest  burdens  of  the  Faith.  It  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  some  of  the  doctrines  derived  from  scho- 
lastic Theology  and  once  most  widely  accepted  in  the  Christian 
Church — such,  for  example,  as  the  fate  of  unbaptized  Infants 
— are  doctrines  which  present  the  nature  and  character  of  the 
Godhead  in  aspects  as  irrational  as  they  are  repulsive.  One 
of  the  most  remarkable  schools  of  Christian  thought  which  has 
arisen  in  recent  times  is  that  which  has  made  the  idea  of  the 
"  Fatherhood  of  God  "  the  basis  of  its  distinctive  teaching.  Yet 
it  is  nothing  but  a  reversion  to  the  simplest  of  all  ideas,  the 
most  rudimentary  of  all  experiences — that  which  takes  the 
functions  and  the  authority  of  a  Father  as  the  most  natural 
image  of  the  Invisible  and  Infinite  Being  to  whom  we  owe 
"  life  and  breath  and  all  things."  In  the  facts  of  Vedic  litera- 
ture, as  now  sifted  and  presented  to  us  by  scholars,  when  we 
carefully  separate  these  facts  from  theories  about  them,  there 
is  really  no  symptom  of  any  time  when  the  idea  of  some  Living 
Being  in  the  nature  of  God  had  not  yet  been  attained.  On  the 
contrary  the  earliest  indications  of  this  conception  are  indi- 
cations of  the  sublimest  character,  and  the  process  of  Evolution 
seems  distinctly  to  have  been  a  process  not  of  an  ascending 
but  of  a  descending  order.  Thus  it  appears  that  the  great  ap- 
pellative "  Dyaus,"  which  in  the  earliest  Vedic  literature  is  mas- 
culine and  stood  for  "  The  Bright  or  Shining  One,"  or  the  Living 
Being  whose  dwelling  is  the  Light,  had  in  later  times  become  a. 
feminine  and  stood  for  nothing  but  the  sky.*  It  is  quite 
evident  that  in  the  oldest  times  of  the  Aryan  race,  in  so  far  as 
those  times  have  left  us  any  record,  not  only  had  the  idea  of  a 
Personal  God  been  fully  conceived,  but  such  a  Being  had  been 
described,  and  addressed  in  language  and  under  symbols  which 
are  comparable  with  the  sublimest  imagery  in  the  Visions  of 
Patmos.  How  firmly,  too,  and  how  naturally  these  conceptions 
of  a  God  were  rooted  in  the  analogies  of  our  own  human  Person- 
ality is  attested  by  the  additional  fact  that  Paternity  was  the 
earliest  Vedic  idea  of  Creation,  and  Dyaus  was  invoked  not  only 
as  the  Heaven-Father  but  specially  as  the  "  Dyaush  pita  ganita," 
which  is  the  Sanskrit  equivalent  of  the  Greek  Zev$ 

*  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  pp.  276,  277. 


ON    THE   CAUSES   OF    RELIGIOUS    CORRUPTION.  303 

When,  again,  we  are  told  by  Sanskrit  scholars  that  the  earli- 
est religious  conceptions  of  the  Aryan  race,  as  exhibited  in  the 
Veda,  were  Pantheistic,  and  that  the  Gods  they  worshipped  were 
"  Deifications  "  of  the  Forces  or  Powers  of  Nature,  we  are  to 
remember  that  this  is  an  interpertation  and  not  a  fact.  It  is 
an  interpretation,  too,  which  assumes  the  familiarity  of  the  hu- 
man mind  in  the  ages  of  its  infancy  with  one  of  the  most 
doubtful  and  difficult  conceptions  of  modern  science — namely, 
the  abstract  conception  of  Energy  or  Force  as  an  insepa- 
rable attribute  of  Matter.  The  only  fact,  divested  of  all  pre- 
conceptions, which  these  scholars  have  really  ascertained  is, 
that  in  compositions  which  are  confessedly  poetical  the  Ener- 
gies of  Nature  were  habitually  addressed  as  the  Energies  of 
Personal  or  Living  Beings.  But  this  fact  does  not  in  the  least 
involve  the  supposition  that  the  Energies  of  Nature  which  are 
thus  addressed  had,  at  some  still  earlier  epoch,  been  regarded 
under  the  aspect  of  Material  Forces,  and  had  afterwards  come 
to  be  Personified  ;  nor  does  it  in  the  least  involve  the  other 
supposition  that,  when  so  Personified,  they  were  really  regarded 
as  so  many  different  Beings  absolutely  separate  and  distinct 
from  each  other.  Both  of  these  suppositions  may  indeed  be 
matter  of  argument ;  but  neither  of  them  can  be  legitimately 
assumed.  They  are,  on  the  contrary,  both  of  them  open  to  the 
most  serious,  if  not  to  insuperable  objections.  As  regards  the 
first  of  them — that  the  earliest  human  conceptions  of  Nature 
were  of  that  most  abstruse  and  difficult  kind  which  consists  in 
the  idea  of  Material  Force  without  any  living  embodiment  or 
abode,  I  have  already  indicated  the  grounds  on  which  it  seems 
in  the  highest  degree  improbable.  As  regards  the  second  sup- 
position, viz.,  that  when  Natural  Forces  came  to  be  Personified 
each  one  of  them  was  regarded  as  the  embodiment  of  a  sepa- 
rate and  distinct  Divinity — this  is  a  most  unsafe  interpretation 
of  the  language  of  poetry.  The  purest  Monotheism  has  a  Pan- 
theistic side.  To  see  all  things  in  God  is  very  closely  related 
to  seeing  God  in  all  things.  The  giving  of  separate  names  to 
diverse  manifestations  of  one  Divine  Power  may  pass  into 
Polytheism  by  insensible  degrees.  But  'it  would  be  a  most  er- 
roneous conclusion  from  the  use  of  such  names  at  a  very  early 
stage  in  the  history  of  religious  development,  that  those  who  so 


304  THE    UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

employed  them  had  no  conception  of  One  Supreme  Being.  In 
the  Philosophy  of  Brahminism  even,  in  the  midst  of  its  most 
extravagant  Polytheistic  developments,  not  only  has  this  idea 
been  preserved,  but  it  has  been  taught  and  held  as  the  central 
idea  of  the  whole  system.  "There  is  but  one  Being — no 
second."  Nothing  really  exists  but  the  one  Universal  Spirit, 
called  Brahmin ;  and  whatever  appears  to  exist  independently 
is  identical  with  that  Spirit.*  This  is  the  uncompromising 
creed  of  true  Brahminism.  If,  then,  this  creed  can  be  retained 
even  amidst  the  extravagant  Polytheism  of  later  Hindu  cor- 
ruptions, much  more  easily  could  it  be  retained  in  the  early 
Pantheism  of  the  Vedic  Hymns. 

There  is,  however,  one  kind  of  evidence  remaining,  which 
may  be  said  to  be  still  within  the  domain  of  history,  and  that  is 
the  evidence  derived  from  Language,  from  the  structure  and 
etymology  of  words.  This  evidence  carries  us  a  long  way  fur- 
ther back,  even  to  the  time  when  Language  was  in  the  course 
of  its  formation,  and  long  before  it  had  been  reduced  to  writ- 
ing. From  this  evidence,  as  we  find  it  in  the  facts  reported 
respecting  the  earliest  forms  of  Aryan  speech,  it  seems  certain 
that  the  most  ancient  conceptions  of  the  energies  of  Nature 
were  conceptions  of  Personality.  In  that  dim  and  far-off 
time,  when  our  pre-historic  ancestors  were  speaking  in  a  lan- 
guage long  anterior  to  the  formation  of  the  oldest  Sanskrit,  we 
are  told  that  they  called  the  Sun  the  Illuminator,  or  the 
Warmer,  or  the  Nourisher ;  the  Moon,  the  Measurer ;  the 
Dawn,  the  Awakener  ;  the  Thunder,  the  Roarer ;  the  Rain,  the 
Rainer;  the  Fire,  the  Quick-Runner.f  We  are  told  further 
that  in  these  Personifications  the  earliest  Aryans  did  not  im- 
agine them  as  possessing  the  material  or  corporeal  Forms  of 
Humanity,  but  only  that  the  activities  they  exhibited  were  most 
easily  conceived  as  comparable  with  our  own.  Surely  this  is  a 
fact  which  is  worth  volumes  of  speculation.  What  was  most 
easy  and  most  natural  then,  must  have  been  most  easy  and 
most  natural  from  the  beginning.  With  such  a  propensity  in 
the  earliest  men  of  whom  we  have  any  authentic  record  to  see 
personal  agency  in  everything,  and  with  the  general  impression 

*  Professor  Monier  Williams,  "  Hinduism,"  p.  n. 
tMax  Miiller,  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  1878,  p.  193. 


ON   THE   CAUSES   OF    RELIGIOUS   CORRUPTION.  305 

of  unity  and  subordination  under  one  system  which  is  suggested 
by  all  the  phenomena  of  Nature,  it  does  not  seem  very  difficult 
to  suppose  that  the  fundamental  conception  of  all  Religion  may 
have  been  in  the  strictest  sense  primeval. 

But  the  earliest  records  of  Aryan  worship  and  of  Aryan 
speech,  are  not  the  only  evidences  we  have  of  the  comparative 
sublimity  of  the  earliest  known  conceptions  of  the  Divine  Na- 
ture. The  Egyptian  records  are  older  still ;  and  some  of  the 
oldest  are  also  the  most  sublime.  A  hymn  to  the  rising  and 
setting  sun,  which  is  contained  in  the  12 5th  chapter  of  the 
"  Book  of  the  Dead,"  is  said  by  Egyptian  scholars  to  be  "  the 
most  ancient  piece  of  poetry  in  the  literature  of  the  world."  * 
In  this  hymn  the  Divine  Deity  is  described  as  the  Maker  of 
Heaven  and  of  Earth,  as  the  Self-existent  One  ;  and  the  element- 
ary Forces  of  Nature,  under  the  curious  and  profound  expres- 
sion of  the  "  Children  of  Inertness,"  are  described  as  His  in- 
struments in  the  rule  and  government  of  Nature. f  Nor  is  it 
less  remarkable  that  these  old  Egyptians  seem  to  have  grasped 
the  idea  of  Law  and  Order  as  a  characteristic  method  of  the 
Divine  government.  He  who  alone  is  truly  the  Living  One,  is 
adored  as  living  in  the  Truth,  and  in  Justice  considered  as  the 
unchanging  and  unchangeable  Rule  of  Right  in  the  Moral 
World,  and  of  Order  in  Physical  Causation.  $  The  same  grand 
conception  has  been  traced  in  the  Theology  of  the  Vedas. 
The  result  of  all  this  historical  evidence  may  be  given  in  the 
words  of  M.  Renouf  :  "  It  is  incontestably  true  that  the  sublimer 
portions  of  the  Egyptian  Religion  are  not  the  comparatively 
late  result  of  a  process  of  development  or  elimination  from  the 
grosser.  The  sublimer  portions  are  demonstrably  ancient ;  and 
the  last  stage  of  the  Egyptian  Religion,  that  known  to  the  Greek 
and  Latin  writers,  was  by  far  the  grossest  and  most  corrupt." 

*  Renouf,  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  1879,  p.  197. 

t  Ibid.,  pp.  198,  199.  $  Ibid.,  pp.  119,120. 

20 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

RECAPITULATIONS   AND    CONCLUSIONS. 

IN  a  previous  chapter  I  have  observed  how  little  we  think  of 
the  assumptions  which  are  involved  in  putting  such  questions  as 
that  respecting  the  origin  of  Religion.  And  here  we  have  come 
to  a  point  in  our  investigations  at  which  it  is  very  needful  to  re- 
member again  what  some  of  these  assumptions  are.  In  order 
to  do  so  let  us  look  back  for  a  moment  and  see  where  we 
stand. 

We  have  found  the  clearest  evidence  that  there  is  a  special  < 
tendency  in  religious  conceptions  to  run  into  developments  of 
corruption  and  decay.  We  have  seen  the  best  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  the  Religion  of  Savages,  like  their  other  peculiarities, 
is  the  result  of  this  kind  of  evolution.  We  have  found  in  the 
most  ancient  records  of  the  Aryan  language  proof  that  the  in- 
dications of  religious  thought  are  higher,  simpler,  and  purer  as 
we  go  back  in  time,  until  at  last,  in  the  very  oldest  composi- 
tions of  human  speech  which  have  come  down  to  us,  we  find 
the  Divine  Being  spoken  of  in  the  sublime  language  which  forms 
the  opening  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The  date  in  absolute  chro- 
nology of  the  oldest  Vedic  literature  does  not  seem  to  be  known. 
There  is  a  wide  discrepancy  between  high  authorities.  Pro- 
fessor Max  Miiller  considers  that  it  may  possibly  take  us  back 
5000  years.*  This  is  probably  an  extreme  estimate,  and  Pro- 
fessor Monier  Williams  seems  to  refer  the  most  ancient  Vedic 
Hymns  to  a  period  not  much  more  remote  than  1500  B.c.f 
But  whatever  that  date  may  be,  or  the  corresponding  date  of 
any  other  very  ancient  literature,  such  as  the  Chinese,  or  that 
of  the  oldest  Egyptian  papyri,  when  we  go  beyond  these  dates 
we  enter  upon  a  period  when  we  are  absolutely  without  any  his- 
torical evidence  whatever,  not  only  as  to  the  history  of  Religion, 
but  as  to  the  history  and  condition  of  Mankind.  We  do  not 
know  even  approximately  the  time  during  which  he  has  existed. 

*  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  p.  216.  t "  Hinduism,"  p.  19. 


RECAPITULATIONS   AND   CONCLUSIONS.  307 

We  do  not  know  the  place  or  the  surroundings  of  his  birth.  We 
do  not  know  the  steps  by  which  his  knowledge  "  grew  from  more 
to  more."  £A11  we  can  see  with  certainty  is  that  the  earliest  in- 
ventions of  Mankind  are  the  most  wonderful  that  the  race  has 
ever  made/  The  first  beginnings  of  human  Speech  must  have 
had  their  origin  in  powers  of  the  highest  order.  On  this  subject 
there  is  a  dangerous  ambiguity  in  the  theories  of  Scientific 
Etymology.  Very  often  they  seem  to  imply  that  Speech  is  the 
cause  instead  of  being  the  consequence  of  Intellectual 
Conceptions.  From  the  first  it  has  been  Mind  that  has  in- 
formed the  Voice,  and  not  Voice  that  has  informed  the  Mind. 
Associated  ideas  have  preceded  associated  sounds.  It  is  not 
Language  that  has  made  Thought  possible.  It  is  Thought 
that  has  built  up  Language  as  an  embodiment  of  itself.  The 
function  of  Speech  is  not  to  originate  Conceptions,  but  to  ex- 
press them,  and  to  make  them  easy  of  communication  and  ex- 
change. And  so  all  the  other  acquirements  of  primeval  times 
have  been  as  it  were  the  spontaneous  growths  and  fruits  of 
Mind.  The  first  use  of  fire  and  the  discovery  of  the  methods 
by  which  it  can  be  kindled ;  the  domestication  of  wild  animals  ; 
and  above  all  the  processes  by  which  the  various  Cereals  were 
first  developed  out  of  some  wild  Grasses — these  are  all  dis- 
coveries with  which  in  ingenuity  and  in  importance  no  sub- 
sequent discoveries  may  compare.  They  are  all  unknown  to 
History — all  lost  in  the  light  of  an  effulgent  Dawn.  In  speculat- 
ing, therefore,  on  the  origin  of  these  things,  we  must  make  one 
or  other  of  two  assumptions — either  that  Man  always  had  the 
same  mental  faculties  and  the  same  fundamental  intellectual 
constitution  that  he  has  now,  or  that  there  was  a  time  when 
these  faculties  had  not  yet  risen  to  the  level  of  Humanity,  and 
when  his  mental  constitution  was  essentially  inferior. 

On  the  first  of  these  assumptions  we  proceed  on  the  safe 
ground  of  inquiry  from  the  known  to  the  unknown.  We  handle 
a  familiar  thing  ;  we  dissect  a  known  structure  ;  we  think  of  a 
known  agency.  We  speculate  only  on  the  manner  of  its  first  be- 
havior. Even  in  this  process  we  must  take  a  good  deal  for 
granted — we  must  imagine  a  good  deal  that  is  not  easily  con- 
ceivable. If  we  try  to  present  to  our  own  minds  any  distinct 
image  of  the  first  Man,  whether  we  suppose  him  to  have  been 


308  THE   UNITY   OF    NATURE. 

specially  created  or  gradually  developed,  we  shall  soon  find  that 
we  are  talking  about  a  Being  and  about  a  condition  of  things    j 
of  which  Science  tells  us  nothing,  and  of  which  the  Imagination  / 
even  cannot  form  any  definite  conception.  (The  temptation  to 
think  of  that  Being  as  a  mere  Savage  is  very  great,  and  this 
theory  underlies  nine-tenths  of  all  speculations  on  the  subject 
*£.  But,  to  say  the  very  least,  this  may  not  be  true,  and  valid 

reasons  have  been  adduced  to  show  that  it  is  in  the  highest  de- 
gree improbable.  That  the  first  Man  should  have  been  born 
with  all  the  developments  of  Savagery,  is  as  impossible  as  that 
he  should  have  been  born  with  all  the  developments  of  Civiliza- 
tion. .}  The  next  most  natural  resource  we  have  is  to  think  of 
the  first  Man  as  something  like  a  Child.  But  no  man  has 
ever  seen  a  Child  which  never  had  a  Parent  as  human  as  it- 
self, or  some  one  to  represent  such  a  Parent.  We  can  form  no 
picture  in  our  mind's  eye  of  the  mental  condition  of  the  first 
Man,  if  we  suppose  him  to  have  had  no  communication  with, 
.and  no  instruction  from,  some  Intelligence  other  than  his  own. 
A  Child  that  has  never  been  taught  anything,  and  has  never 
seen  example,  is  a  creature  of  which  we  have  no  knowledge,  and 
of  which  therefore  we  can  form  no  definite  conception. 

Our  power  of  conceiving  things  is,  of  course,  no  measure  of 
their  possibility.  But  it  may  be  well  to  observe  where  the  im- 
possibilities of  conception  are,  or  may  be,  of  our  own  making. 
It  is  at  least  possible  that  the  first  Man  may  not  have  been 
born  or  created  in  the  condition  which  we  find  to  be  so  incon- 
ceivable. He  may  have  been  a  Child,  but  having,  what  all 
other  children  have,  some  intimations  of  Authority  and  some 
.  acquaintance  with  its  Source.  At  all  events,  let  it  be  clearly 
seen  that  the  denial  of  this  possibility  is  an  assumption  ;  and 
an  assumption  too  which  establishes  an  absolute  and  radical 
.  distinction  between  Childhood  as  we  know  it,  and  the  incon- 
ceivable conditions  of  a  Childhood  which  was  either  without 
Parents,  or  with  Parents  who  were  comparatively  Beasts.  Pro- 
fessor Max  Miiller  has  fancied  our  earliest  forefathers  as  creat- 
ures who  at  first  had  to  be  "  roused  and  awakened  from  mere 
staring  and  stolid  wonderment,"  by  certain  objects  "  which  set 
them  for  the  first  time  musing,  pondering,  and  thinking  on  the 
visions  floating  before  their  eyes."  This  is  a  picture  evidently 


RECAPITULATIONS   AND   CONCLUSIONS.  309 

framed  on  the  assumption  of  a  Fatherless  Childhood — of  a 
Being  born  into  the  world  with  all  the  innate  powers  of  Man, 
but  absolutely  deprived  of  all  direct  communication  with  any 
Mind  or  Will  analogous  to  his  own.  No  such  assumption  is 
admissible  as  representing  any  reasonable  probability.  But  at 
least  such  imaginings  as  these  about  our  First  Parents  have 
reference  to  their  external  conditions  only,  and  do  not  raise  the 
additional  difficulties  which  are  involved  in  the  supposition  that 
the  first  Man  was  half  a  Beast. 

Very  different  is  the  case  upon  this  other  of  the  two  assump- 
tions which  have  been  indicated  above.  On  the  assumption 
that  there  was  a  time  when  Man  was  different  in  his  own 
proper  nature  from  that  nature  as  we  know  it  now — when  he 
was  merely  an  animal  not  yet  developed  into  a  Man — on  this 
assumption  another  element  of  the  unknown  is  introduced, 
which  is  an  element  of  absolute  confusion.  It  is  impossible  to 
found  any  reasoning  upon  data  which  are  not  only  unknown, 
but  are  in  themselves  unintelligible  and  inconceivable.  Now  it 
seems  as  if  many  of  those  who  speculate  on  the  origin  of  Relig- 
ion have  not  clearly  made  up  their  minds  whether  they  are  pro- 
ceeding on  the  first  of  these  assumptions  or  on  the  second  ; 
that  is  to  say,  on  the  assumption  that  Man  has  always  been,  in 
respect  to  Faculty,  what  he  now  is,  or  on  the  assumption  that  he 
was  once  a  Beast.  Perhaps,  indeed,  it  would  be  strictly  true  to 
say  that  many  of  those  who  speculate  on  the  origin  of  Religion 
proceed  upon  the  last  of  these  assumptions  without  avowing  it, 
or  even  without  distinctly  recognizing  it  themselves.  It  may  be 
well,  therefore,  to  point  out  here  that  on  this  assumption  the 
question  cannot  be  discussed  at  all.  We  must  begin  with  Man 
as  Man,  when  his  development  or  his  creation  had  made  him 
what  he  is  ;  not  indeed  as  regards  the  acquisitions  of  experi- 
ence or  the  treasures  of  knowledge,  but  what  he  is  in  Faculty 
and  in  Power,  in  the  structure  and  habit  of  his  Mind,  in  the  in- 
stincts of  his  intellectual  and  moral  nature. 

But,  as  we  have  also  seen  in  a  former  chapter,*  there  are  two 
other  assumptions  between  which  we  must  choose.  Besides 
assuming  something  as  to  the  condition  and  the  powers  of  the 
first  Man,  we  must  also  make  one  or  other  of  two  assumptions 

*  Chap.  XL,  ante. 


/ 

'    c^&r*tans<*Jf*-^i*<^'£'A^'£^'f<+w^    \ 

310  THE    UNITY    OF    NATtfRl 

as  to  the  existence  or  non-existence  of  a  Being  to  whom  his 
Mind  stands  in  close  relation.  One  is  the  assumption  that 
there  is  no  God  ;  and  then  the  problem  is,  how  Man  came  to 
invent  one.  The  other  is  that  there  is  a  God  ;  and  then  the 
question  is,  whether  He  first  formed,  and  how  long  He  left  His 
Creature  without  any  intuition  or  revelation  of  Himself. 

It  is  really  curious  to  observe  in  many  speculations  on  the 
origin  of  Religion  how  unconscious  the  writers  are  that  they  are 
making  any  assumption  at  all  on  this  subject.  And  yet  in 
many  cases  the  assumption  distinctly  is  that,  as  an  objective 
Reality,  God  does  not  exist,  and  that  the  conception  of  such  a 
Being  is  built  up  gradually  out  of  wonderings  and  guessings 
about  "  the  Infinite  "  and  "  the  Invisible." 

On  this  assumption  I  confess  that  it  does  not  appear  to  me 
to  be  possible  to  give  any  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  origin 
of  Religion.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  see  that  the  tendency  to 
believe  in  divine  or  superhuman  Beings  is  a  universal  tendency 
in  the  human  Mind.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  also,  we  see  that  the 
conceptions  which  gather  round  this  Belief — the  ideas  which 
grow  up  and  are  developed  from  one  consequence  to  another 
respecting  the  character  of  these  superhuman  Personalities  and 
their  relations  to  Mankind — are  beyond  all  comparison  the 
most  powerful  agencies  in  moulding  human  nature  for  evil  or 
for  good.  There  is  no  question  whatever  about  the  fact  that 
the  most  terrible  and  destructive  Customs  of  barbarian  and  of 
savage  life  are  customs  more  or  less  directly  connected  with 
the  growth  of  religious  superstitions.  It  was  the  perception  of 
this  fact  which  inspired  the  intense  hatred  of  Religion,  as  it 
was  known  to  him,  which  breathes  in  the  memorable  poem  of 
Lucretius.  In  all  literature  there  is  no  single  line  more  true 
than  the  famous  line — "  Tantum  religio  potuit  suadere  ma- 
lorum."  Nor  is  it  less  certain,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the 
highest  type  of  human  virtue  is  that  which  has  been  exhibited 
in  some  of  those  whose  whole  inspiration  and  rule  of  life  has 
been  founded  on  religious  faith.  Religious  conceptions  have 
been  historically  the  centre  of  all  Authority,  and  have  given 
their  strength  to  all  ideas  of  Moral  Obligation.  Accordingly, 
we  see  that  the  same  hatred  which  inspired  Lucretius  against 
Religion  because  of  its  power  for  evil,  now  inspires  other  men 


RECAPITULATIONS   AND   CONCLUSIONS.  311 

against  it  because  of  its  power  for  good.  Those  who  wish  to 
sever  all  the  bonds  which  bind  human  society  together,  the 
State,  the  Church,  the  Family,  and  whose  spirits  are  in  fierce 
rebellion  against  all  Law,  human  or  divine,  are,  and  must  be, 
bitter  enemies  of  Religion.  The  idea  must  be  unendurable  to 
them  of  a  Ruler  who  cannot  be  defied,  of  a  Throne  which 
cannot  be  overturned,  of  a  Kingdom  which  endureth  through- 
out all  generations.  The  Belief  in  any  Divine  Personality  as 
the  source  of  the  inexorable  laws  of  Nature  is  a  Belief  which 
enforces,  as  nothing  else  can  enforce,  the  idea  of  Obligation 
and  the  duty  of  Obedience. 

It  is  not  possible,  in  the  light  of  the  Unity  of  Nature,  to 
reconcile  this  close  and  obvious  relation  between  religious  con- 
ceptions and  the  highest  conditions  of  human  life  with  the  sup- 
position that  these  conceptions  are  nothing  but  a  dream.  The 
power  exercised  over  the  mind  and  conduct  of  Mankind,  by  the 
Belief  in  some  Divine  Personality  with  whom  they  have  to  do, 
is  a  power  having  all  the  marks  that  indicate  an  integral  part 
of  the  System  under  which  we  live.  But  if  we  are  to  assume 
that  this  Belief  does  not  represent  a  fact,  and  that  its  origin 
has  been  any  other  than  a  simple  and  natural  perception  of 
that  fact,  then  this  negation  must  be  the  groundwork  of  all 
our  speculations  on  the  subject,  and  must  be  involved,  more  or 
less  directly,  in  every  argument  we  use.  Qfeut  even  on  this 
assumption  it  is  not  a  reasonable  explanation  of  the  funda- 
mental postulates  of  all  Religion — namely,  the  existence  of 
superhuman  Beings — to  suppose  that  the  idea  of  Personality 
has  been  evolved  out  of  that  which  is  Impersonal ;  the  idea  of 
Will  out  of  that  which  has  no  Intelligence  ;  the  idea  of  Life 
out  of  that  which  does  not  contain  it.) 

On  the  other  hand,  if  we  make  the  only  alternative  assump- 
tion— namely,  that  there  is  a  God,  that  is  to  say,  a  Supreme 
Being,  who  is  the  Author  of  Creation — then  the  origin  of  Man's 
perception  of  this  fact  ceases  to  have  any  mystery  other  than 
that  which  attaches  to  the  origin  of  all  the  other  elementary 
perceptions  of  his  Mind  and  Spirit.  Not  a  few  of  these  per- 
ceptions tell  him  of  realities  which  are  as  invisible  as  the  God- 
head. Of  his  own  passions,  and  of  the  passions  of  other  men, 
his  perception  is  immediate — of  his  own  love,  of  his  own 


312  THE    UNITY    OF     NATURE. 

anger,  of  his  own  possession  of  just  authority.  The  sense  of 
owing  obedience  may  well  be  as  immediate  as  the  sense  of  a 
right  to  claim  it.  Moreover,  seeing  the  transcendent  power  of 
this  perception  upon  his  conduct,  and,  through  his  conduct, 
upon  his  fate,  it  becomes  antecedently  probable,  in  accordance 
with  the  analogies  of  Nature  and  of  all  other  created  Beings, 
that  from  the  very  first,  and  as  part  of  the  outfit  of  his  nature, 
some  knowledge  was  imparted  to  him  of  the  existence  of  his 
Creator,  and  of  the  duty  which  he  owed  to  Him. 

Of  the  methods  by  which  this  knowledge  was  imparted  to 
him,  we  are  as  ignorant  as  of  the  methods  by  which  other 
innate  perceptions  were  implanted  in  him.  But  no  special 
difficulty  is  involved  in  the  origin  of  a  perception  which  stands 
in  such  close  relation  to  the  Unity  of  Nature.  It  has  been 
demanded  indeed,  as  a  postulate  in  this  discussion,  that  we 
should  discard  all  notions  of  antecedent  probability — that 
we  should  take  nothing  for  granted,  except  that  Man  started 
on  his  course  furnished  with  what  are  called  his  Senses,  and 
with  nothing  more.  And  this  demand  may  be  acceded  to  pro- 
vided it  be  well  understood  what  our  Senses  are.  If  by  this 
word  we  are  to  understand  nothing  more  than  the  gates  and 
avenues  of  approach  through  which  we  derive  an  impression  of 
external  objects — our  sight,  and  touch,  and  smell,  and  taste, 
and  hearing — then,  indeed,  it  is  the  most  violent  of  all  assump- 
tions that  they  are  the  only  faculties  by  which  knowledge  is 
acquired.  There  is  no  need  to  put  any  disparagement  on  these 
Senses,  or  to  undervalue  the  work  they  do.  Quite  the 
contrary.  It  has  been  shown  in  a  former  chapter  how  securely 
we  may  rest  on  the  wonder  and  on  the  truthfulness  of  these 
Faculties  as  a  pledge  and  guarantee  of  the  truthfulness  of 
other  Faculties  which  are  conversant  with  higher  things. 
When  we  think  of  the  Mechanism  of  the  Eye,  and  of  the  in- 
conceivable minuteness  of  the  ethereal  movements  which  that 
Organ  enables  us  to  separate  and  to  discriminate  at  a  glance, 
we  get  hold  of  an  idea  having  an  intense  interest  and  a 
supreme  importance.  If  Adjustments  so  fine  and  so  true  as 
these  have  been  elaborated  out  of  the  Unities  of  Nature, 
whether  suddenly  by  what  we  imagine  as  Creation,  or  slowly  by 
what  we  call  Development,  then  may  we  have  the  firmest  con- 


RECAPITULATIONS    AND    CONCLUSIONS.  313 

fidence  that  the  same  Law  of  Natural  Adjustment  has  pre- 
vailed in  all  the  other  Faculties  of  the  perceiving  and  conceiv- 
ing Mind.  The  whole  structure  of  that  Mind  is,  as  it  were, 
revealed  to  be  a  Structure  which  is  in  the  nature  of  a  Growth 
— a  Structure  whose  very  property  and  function  it  is  to  take  in 
and  assimilate  the  truths  of  Nature — and  that  in  an  ascending 
order,  according  to  the  rank  of  those  truths  in  the  System  and 
Constitution  of  the  Universe.  In  this  connection  of  thought 
too  great  stress  cannot  be  laid  on  the  wonderful  language  of 
the  Senses.  In  the  light  of  it  the  whole  Mind  and  Spirit  of  Man 
becomes  one  great  mysterious  Retina  for  reflecting  the  images 
of  Eternal  Truth.  Our  moral  and  intellectual  perceptions  of 
things  which  in  their  very  nature  are  invisible,  come  home  to 
us  as  invested  with  a  new  authority.  It  is  the  authority  of  an 
Adjusted  Structure — of  a  mental  organization  which  has  been 
moulded  by  what  we  call  natural  causes — these  being  the 
causes  on  which  the  Unity  of  the  World  depends. 

And  when  we  come  to  consider  how  this  moulding,  and  the 
moulding  of  the  human  Body,  deviates  from  that  of  the  lower 
animals,  we  discover  in  the  nature  of  this  deviation  a  Law 
which  cannot  be  mistaken.  That  Law  points  to  the  higher 
power  and  to  the  higher  value  in  his  economy  of  Faculties 
which  lie  behind  the  Senses.  The  human  frame  diverges  from 
the  frame  of  the  Brutes,  so  far  as  the  mere  bodily  senses  are 
concerned,  in  the  direction  of  greater  helplessness  and  weak- 
ness. Man's  sight  is  less  piercing  than  the  Eagle's.  His  hear- 
ing is  less  acute  than  the  Owl's  or  the  Bat's.  His  sense  of 
smell  may  be  said  hardly  to  exist  at  all  when  it  is  compared 
with  the  exquisite  susceptibilities  of  the  Dog  and  of  the  Deer, 
of  the  Weasel,  or  of  the  Fox.  The  whole  principle  and  plan 
of  structure  in  the  Beasts  which  are  supposed  to  be  nearest  to 
him  in  form,  is  a  principle  and  a  plan  which  is  almost  the  con- 
verse of  that  on  which  his  structure  has  been  organized.  The 
so-called  man-like  Apes  are  highly  specialized ;  Man  on  the 
contrary  is  as  highly  generalized.  They  are  framed  to  live 
almost  entirely  on  trees,  and  to  be  dependent  on  arboreal  pro- 
ducts, which  only  a  very  limited  area  in  the  Globe  can  supply. 
Man  is  framed  to  be  independent  of  all  local  conditions,  except 
indeed  those  extreme  conditions  which  are  incompatible  with 


314  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

the  maintenance  of  Organic  Life  in  any  form.     If  it  be  true, 
therefore,  that  he  is  descended  from  some  "arboreal  animal 
with  pointed  ears,"  he  has  been  modified  during  the  steps  of 
that  descent  on  the  principle  of  depending  less  and  less  on 
Senses  such  as  the  lower  animals  possess,  and  more  and  more 
on  what  may  be  called  the  Senses  of  his  Mind.    The  unclothed 
and  unprotected  condition  of  the  human  body,  the  total  ab- 
.sence  of  any  organic  weapon  of  defence,  the  want  of  teeth 
'adapted  even  for  prehension,  and  the  same  want  of  power  for 
similar    purposes   in   the    hands    and   fingers — these   are   all 
changes  and  departures  from  the  mere  animal  type  which  stand 
in  obvious  relation  to  the  mental  powers  of  Man.     Apart  from 
~  *•'  these  they  are  changes  which  would  have  placed  the  new  Creature 
at  a  hopeless  disadvantage  in  the  struggle  for  existence.    It  is  not 
j  easy  to  imagine, — indeed  we  may  safely  say  that  it  is  impossi- 

ble to  conceive — the  condition  of  things  during  any  interme- 
diate steps  in  such  a  process.  It  seems  as  if  there  could  be  no 
safety  until  it  had  been  completed — until  the  enfeebled  Physi- 
cal Organization  had  been  supported  and  re-enforced  by  the 
new  capacities  for  Knowledge  and  Design. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  point  on  which  we  are  dwelling  now. 
We  are  not  now  speculating  on  the  origin  of  Man.  We  are 
considering  him  only  as  he  is,  and  as  he  must  have  been  since 
he  was  Man  at  all.  And  in  that  structure  as  it  is,  we  see  that 
the  bodily  Senses  have  a  smaller  relative  importance  than  in 
the  Beasts.  To  the  Beasts  these  Senses  tell  them  all  they 
know.  To  us  they  speak  but  little  compared  with  all  that  our 
Spirit  of  Interpretation  gathers  from  them.  But  that  Spirit  of 
Interpretation  is  in  the  nature  of  a  Sense.  In  the  lower  ani- 
mals every  external  stimulus  moves  to  some  appropriate  action. 
In  Man  it  moves  to  some  appropriate  thought.  This  is  an 
''enormous  difference;  but  the  principle  is  the  same.  We  can 
see  that,  so  far  as  the  mechanism  is  visible,  the  plan  or  the 
principle  of  that  mechanism  is  alike.  The  more  clearly  we  un- 
derstand that  this  organic  mechanism  has  been  a  Growth  and  a 
Development,  the  more  certain  we  may  be  that  in  its  structure 
it  is  self-adapted,  and  that  in  its  working  it  is  true.  And  the 
same  principle  applies  to  those  other  Faculties  of  our  mental 
constitution  which  have  no  outward  Organ  to  indicate  the. 


RECAPITULATIONS    AND    CONCLUSIONS.  315 

machinery  through  which  their  operations  are  conducted.  In 
them  the  Spirit  of  Interpretation  is  in  communication  with  the 
realities  which  lie  behind  phenomena — with  energies  which  are 
kindred  with  its  own. 

And  so  we  come  to  understand  that  the  processes  of  Devel- 
opment or  of  Creation,  whatever  they  may  have  been,  which 
culminated  in  the  production  of  a  Being  such  as  Man,  are  proc- 
esses wholly  governed  and  directed  by  a  Law  of  Adjustment 
between  the  higher  Truths  which  it  concerns  him  most  to  know> 
and  the  evolution  of  Faculties  by  which  alone  he  could  be  en- 
abled to  apprehend  them.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  conceiving 
these  processes  carried  to  the  most  perfect  consummation,  as 
we  do  see  them  actually  carried  to  very  high  degrees  of  excel- 
lence in  the  case  of  a  few  men  of  extraordinary  genius,  or  of 
extraordinary  virtue.  In  science  the  most  profound  conclu- 
sions have  been  sometimes  reached  without  any  process  of  con- 
scious reasoning.  It  is  clearly  the  law  of  our  nature,  how- 
ever, that  the  triumphs  of  Intellect  are  to  be  gained  only  by 
laborious  thought,  and  by  the  gains  of  one  generation  being 
made  the  starting-point  for  the  acquisition  of  the  next.  This  is 
the  general  law.  But  it  js  a  law  which  itself  assumes  certain 
primary  Intuitions  of  the  Mind  as  the  starting-point  of  all.  If 
these  were  wrong,  nothing  could  be  right.  The  whole  processes 
of  reasoning  would  be  vitiated  from  the  first.  The  firs t_Man 
must  have  had  these  as  perfectly  as  we  now  have  them,  else 
the  earliest  steps  of  Reason  could  never  have  been  taken,  and 
the  earliest  rewards  of  discovery  could  never  have  been  se- 
cured. 

But  there  is  this  great  difference  between  the  moral  and  in- 
tellectual nature  of  Man,  that  whereas  in  the  work  of  Reasoning 
the  perceptions  which  are  primary  and  intuitive  require  to  be 
worked  out  and  elaborately  applied,  in  Morals  the  perceptions 
which  are  primary  are  all  in  all.  It  is  true  that  here  also  the 
applications  may  be  infinite,  and  the  doctrines  of  Utility  have 
their  legitimate  application  in  enforcing,  by  the  Sense  of  Obli- 
gation, whatever  course  of  conduct  Reason  may  determine  to 
be  the  most  fitting  and  the  best.  The  Sense  of  Obligation  in 
itself  is,  like  the  sense  of  logical  sequence,  elementary,  and,  like 
it,  is  part  and  parcel  of  our  mental  constitution,  But  unlike,  the 


316  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

mere  sense  of  logical  sequence,  the  sense  of  moral  Obligation 
has  one  necessary  and  primary  application  which  from  the  ear- 
liest moment  of  Man's  existence  may  well  have  been  all-suffi- 
cient. Obedience  to  the  will  of  legitimate  Authority  is,  as  we 
have  seen  in  a  former  chapter,  the  first  duty  and  the  first  idea 
of  duty  in  the  mind  of  Every  Child.  If  ever  there  was  a  Man 
who  had  no  earthly  Father,  or  if  ever  there  was  a  Man  whose 
Father  was,  as  compared  with  himself,  a  Beast,  it  would  seem  a 
natural  and  almost  a  necessary  supposition  that,  along  with  his 
own  new  and  wonderful  power  of  self-consciousness,  there 
should  have  been  associated  a  consciousness  also  of  the  Pres- 
ence and  the  Power  of  that  Creative  Energy  to  which  his  own 
Development  was  due.  It  is  not  possible  for  us  to  conceive 
what  form  the  consciousness  would  take.  "  No  man  hath  seen 
God  at  any  time.  ("""This  absolute  declaration  of  one  of  the 
Apostles  of  the  Christian  Church  proves  that  they  accepted  as 
metaphorical  the  literal  terms  in  whlchThe  first  communications 
betweenTVTan  and  his  Creator  are  narrated  in  the  Jewish  Script- 
ures. It  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  that  the  Almighty  was 
seen  by  His  first  human  Creature  walking  in  bodily  form  in  a 
garden  "  in  the  cool  of  the  day."  The  strong  impressions  of  a 
spiritual  Presence  and  of  spiritual  communications  which  have 
been  the  turning-point  in  the  lives  of  men  living  in  the  bustle  of 
a  busy  and  corrupted  world,  may  well  have  been  even  more 
vivid  and  more  immediate  when  the  first  "  Being  worthy  to  be 
called  a  man  "  stood  on  this  Earth  alone.  (The  light  which 
shone  on  Paul  of  Tarsus  on  the  way  to  Damascus  may  have 
been  such  a  light  as  shone  on  the  Father  of  our  raceT)  Or  the 
communication  may  have  been  what  metaphysicians  call  purely 
subjective,  such  as  in  all  ages  of  the  world  do  sometimes  "  flash 
upon  that  inward  eye  which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude."  But  none 
the  less  may  they  have  been  direct  and  overpowering.  The 
earliest  and  simplest  conception  of  the  Divine  Nature  might 
well  also  be  the  best.  And  although  we  are  forbidden  to  sup- 
pose the  embodiment  and  visibility  of  the  Godhead,  we  are  not 
driven  to  the  alternative  of  concluding  that  there  never  could 
have  been  anything  which  is  to  us  unusual  in  the  intimations  of 
His  presence. 
Yet  this  is  another  of  the  unobserved  assumptions  which  are 


RECAPITULATIONS    AND    CONCLUSIONS.  317 

perpetually  made — the  assumption  of  an  Uniformity  in  Nature 
which  does  not  exist.  That  "  all  things  have  continued  as  they 
are  since  the  Beginning  ';  is  conceivable.  But  that  all  things 
should  have  continued  as  they  were  since  before  the  Beginning 
is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  In  primeval  times  many  things  had 
then  just  been  done  of  which  we  have  no  knowledge  now. 
When  the  Form  of  Man  had  been  fashioned  and  completed  for 
the  first  time,  like  and  yet  unlike  to  the  bodies  of  the  Beasts  ; 
when  all  their  Organs  had  been  lifted  to  a  higher  significance 
in  his ;  when  his  hands  had  been  liberated  from  walking  and  from 
climbing,  and  had  been  elaborated  into  an  instrument  of  the 
most  subtle  and  various  use  ;  when  his  feet  had  been  adapted 
for  holding  him  in  the  erect  position ;  when  his  breathing  ap- 
paratus had  been  set  to  musical  chords  of  widest  compass  and 
the  most  exquisite  tones  ;  when  all  his  Senses  had  become  min- 
isters to  a  Mind  endowed  with  Wonder  and  with  Reverence, 
and  with  Reason  and  with  Love — then  a  work  had  been  accom- 
plished such  as  the  world  had  not  known  before,  and  such  as 
has  never  been  repeated  since. 

All  the  conditions  under  which  that  work  was  carried  forward 
must  have  been  happy  conditions — conditions,  that  is  to  say,  in 
perfect  harmony  with  its  progress  and  its  end.  They  must  have 
been  favorable,  first,  to  the  production,  and  then  to  the  use,  of 
those  higher  Faculties  which  separated  the  new  Creature  from 
the  Beasts.  They  must  have  been  in  a  corresponding  degree  ad- 
verse to  and  incompatible  with  the  prevalence  of  conditions 
tending  to  reversion  or  to  degradation  in  any  form.  That  long 
and  gradual  ascent,  if  we  assume  it  to  have  been  so, — or,  as  it 
may  have  been,  that  sudden  Transfiguration, — must  have  taken 
place  in  a  congenial  air  and  amid  surroundings  which  lent  them- 
selves to  so  great  a  change.  On  every  conceivable  theory, 
therefore,  of  the  origin  of  Man,  all  this  seems  a  necessity  of 
thought.  But  perhaps  it  seems  on  the  Theory  of  Development 
even  more  a  Necessity  than  on  any  other.  It  is  of  the  essence 
of  that  Theory  that  all  things  should  have  worked  together  for 
the  good  of  the  Being  that  was  to  be.  On  the  lowest  interpre- 
tation, this  "  toil  co-operant  to  an  end  "  is  always  the  necessary 
result  of  forces  ever  weaving  and  ever  interwoven.  On  the 
higher  interpretation  it  is  the  same.  Only,  some  Worker  is  ever 


318  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

behind  the  work.  But  under  cither  interpretation  the  conclu- 
sion is  the  same.  That  the  first  Man  should  have  been  a 
Savage,  with  instincts  and  dispositions  perverted  as  they  are 
never  perverted  among  the  Beasts,  is  a  supposition  impossible 
and  inconceivable.  Like  every  other  creature,  he  must  have 
been  in  harmony  with  his  origin  and  his  end — with  the  path 
which  had  led  him  to  where  he  stood,  with  the  work  which  made 
him  what  he  was.  It  may  well  have  been  part  of  that  work — 
nay.  it  seems  almost  a  necessary  part  of  it — to  give  to  this  new 
and  wonderful  Being  some  knowledge  of  his  Whence  and 
Whither — some  open  vision,  some  Sense  and  Faculty  Divine. 

With  arguments  so  deeply  founded  on  the  Analogies  of 
Nature  in  favor  of  the  conclusion  that  the  first  Man,  though  a 
Child  in  acquired  knowledge,  must  from  the  first  have  had  in- 
stincts and  intuitions  in  harmony  with  his  origin  and  with  his 
destiny,  we  must  demand  the  clearest  proof  from  those  who  as- 
sume that  he  could  have  had  no  conception  of  a  Divme  Being, 
and  that  this  was  an  idea  which  could  only  be  acquired  in  time 
from  staring  at  things  too  big  for  him  to  measure,  and  from 
wondering  at  things  too  distant  for  him  to  reach.  Not  even  his 
powers  could  extract  from  such  things  that  which  they  do  not 
contain.  But  in  his  own  Personality,  fresh  from  the  hand  of 
Nature, — in  his  own  Spirit  just  issuing  from  the  fountains  of  its 
birth, — in  his  own  Will,  willing  according  to  the  Law  of  its 
Creation, — in  his  own  Desire  of  Knowledge, — in  his  own  Sense 
of  Obligation, — in  his  own  Wonder  and  Reverence  and  Awe, — 
he  had  all  the  elements  to  enable  him  at  once  to  apprehend, 
though  not  to  comprehend,  the  Infinite  Being  who  was  the 
Author  of  his  own. 

It  is,  then,  with  that  intense  interest  which  must  ever  belong 
to  new  evidence  in  support  of  fundamental  Truths  that  we  find 
these  conclusions,  founded  as  they  are  on  the  analogies  of 
Nature,  confirmed  and  not  disparaged  by  such  facts  as  can  be 
gathered  from  other  sources  of  information.  Scholars  who  have 
begun  their  search  into  the  origin  of  Religion  in  the  full  accept- 
ance of  what  may  be  called  the  savage  theory  of  the  origin  of 
Man, — who,  captivated  by  a  plausible  generalization,  had  taken 
it  for  granted  that  the  farther  we  go  back  in  time  the  more  cer- 
tainly do  we  find  all  Religion  assuming  one  or  other  of  the  gross 


I 

3 

RECAPITULATIONS    AND    CONCLUSIONS.  319 

and  idolatrous  forms  which  have  been  indiscriminately  grouped 
under  the  designation  of  Fetishism— have  been  driven  from  this 
Belief  by  discovering  to  their  surprise  that  facts  do  not  support 
the  theory.  They  have  found,  on  the  contrary,  that  up  to  the 
farthest  limits  which  are  reached  by  records  which  are  properly 
historical,  and  far  beyond  those  limits  to  the  remotest  distance 
which  is  attained  by  evidence  founded  on  the  analysis  of  human 
Speech,  the  religious  conceptions  of  men  are  seen,  as  we  go 
back  in  time,  to  have  been  not  coarser  and  coarser,  but  simpler, 
purer,  higher— (so  that  the  very  oldest  conceptions  of  the  Divine! 
Being  of  which  we- have  any  certain  evidence  are  the  simplest) 
and  the  best  of  alf?) 

In  particular,  and  as  a  fact  of  typical  significance,  we  find 
very  clear  indications  that  everywhere  Idolatry  and  Fetishism 
appear  to  have  been  corruptions,  whilst  the  higher  and  more 
spiritual  conceptions  of  Religion  which  lie  behind,  do  generally 
even  now  survive  among  idolatrous  tribes  as  vague  surmises  or 
as  matters  of  speculative  belief.  Nowhere  even  now,  it  is  con- 
fessed, is  mere  Fetishism  the  whole  of  the  Religion  of  any  peo- 
ple. Everywhere,  in  so  far  as  the  history  of  it  is  known,  it  has 
been  the  work  of  Evolution, — the  development  of  tendencies 
which  are  deviations  from  older  paths.  And  not  leSs  significant 
is  the  fact  that  everywhere  in  the  imagination  and  traditions  of 
Mankind  there  is  preserved  the  memory  and  the  belief  in  a  Past 
better  than  the  Present.  "  It  is  a  constant  saying,"  we  are  told, 
"  among  African  tribes  that  formerly  Heaven  was  nearer  to  Man 
than  it  is  now ;  that  the  highest  God,  the  Creator  Himself,  gave 
formerly  lessons  of  wisdom  to  human  Beings  ;  but  that  after, 
wards  He  withdrew  from  them,  and  dwells  now  far  from  them 
in  Heaven."  All  the  Indian  races  have  the  same  tradition  ;^nd 
it  is  not  easy  to  conceive  how  a  Belief  so  universal  could  have 
arisen  unless  as  a  survival.^  It  has  all  the  marks  of  being  a 
Memory  and  not  an  Imagination.  It  would  reconcile  the  origin 
of  Man  with  that  Law  which  has  been  elsewhere  universal  in 
Creation — the  Law  under  which  every  Creature  has  been  pro- 
duced not  only  with  appropriate  powers,  but  with  appropriate 
Instincts  and  Intuitive  Perceptions  for  the  guidance  of  these 
powers  in  their  exercise  and  use.  Many  will  remember  the 
splendid  lines  in  which  Dante  has  defined  this  Law,  and  has 


320  THE     UNITY     OF     NATURE. 

declared  the  impossibility  of  Man  having  been  exempt  there- 
from : — 

Nell*  ordine  ch'io  dico  sono  accline 
Tutte  nature  per  diverse  sorti 
Piu  al  principio  loro,  e  men  vicine  ; 
Onde  si  muovono  a  diversi  porti 
Per  lo  gran  mar  dell'  essere  ;  e  ciascuna 
Con  istinto  a  lei  dato  che  la  porti. 
****** 

Ne  pur  le  creature,  che  son  fuore 
D'intelligenzia,  quest'arco  saetta, 
Ma  quelle  c'hanno  intelletto  ed  amore.* 

The  only  mystery  which  would  remain  is  the  mystery  which  arises 
out  of  the  fact  that  somehow  those  Instincts  have  in  Man  not 
only  been  liable  to  fail,  but  that  they  seem  to  have  acquired 
apparently  an  ineradicable  tendency  to  become  perverted.  But 
this  is  a  lesser  mystery,  than  the  mystery  which  would  attach  to 
the  original  birth  or  creation  of  any  Creature  in  the  condition  of 
a  human  Savage.  It  is  a  lesser  mystery  because  it  is  of  the  es- 
sence of  a  Being  whose  Will  is  comparatively  free  that  he  should 
be  able  to  deviate  from  his  appointed  path.  The  Origin  of  Evil 
may  appear  to  us  to  be  a  great  mystery.  (^But  this  at  least  may 
be  said  in  mitigation  of  the  difficulty,  that  without  the  possibility 
of  Evil  there  could  be  no  possibility  of  any  Virtue^)  Among  the 
lower  animals  Obedience  has  always  been  a  necessity.  In  man 
il  wasraisetf  to  the  dignity  of  a  duty.  It  is  in  this  great  change" 
that  we  can  see  and  understand  riow  it  is  that  the  very  elevation 
of  his  nature  is  inseparable  from  the  possibility  of  a  Fall.  The 
mystery,,  then,  which  attaches  to  his  condition  now  is  shifted 
from  his  endowments  and  his  gifts  to  the  use  he  made  of  them. 
The  question  of  the  origin  of  Religion  is  merged  and  lost  in  the 
question  of  the  origin  of  Man.  And  that  other  question,  how 
his  Morals  and  how  his  Religion  came  to  be  corrupted,  becomes 
•intelligible  on  the  supposition  of  wilful  disobedience  with  all 
its  tendencies  and  consequences  having  become  "  inherited  and 
organized  in  the  race." 

It  is  indeed  most  curious  and  instructive  to  observe  that  this 
formula  of  expression  which  has  arisen  in  a  School  of  Philoso* 

*  u  Paradise."  canto  i.  110-120. 


RECAPITULATIONS    AND    CONCLUSIONS.  321 

phy  specially  opposed  to  all  theological  conceptions,  is  one 
which  seems  as  if  it  had  been  invented  to  give  scientific  form 
to  that  doctrine  of  the  Christian  Church  which  perhaps  of  all 
others  it  is  most  difficult  to  accept  or  understand.  If  it  is  the 
tendency  of  all  action,  whether  for  good  or  evil,  to  perpetuate 
itself,  and  to  descend  from  one  generation  to  another  by  heredi- 
tary transmission,  then  we  have  a  strictly  scientific  explanation  of 
the  fact  of  inherited  corruption  in  human  nature,  or  as  it  is  called 
in  the  language  of  Theology,  of  Original  Sin.  It  may  be  that 
this  doctrine  has  been  taught  with  accretions  which  do  not  be- 
long to  it,  and  in  forms  which  have  rather  concealed  than  re- 
vealed its  truth.  The  very  words  "  Original  Sin  "  do  not  seem 
accurately  to  express  a  condition  of  things  which  is  always  ex- 
pressly represented  as  not  original  but  secondary  and  superin- 
duced. But  it  is  of  the  highest  interest  to  observe  that  men 
looking  into  Nature  with  other  views,  and  very  different  precon- 
ceptions, have  seen  a  Law  which  really  does,  in  some  measure 
at  least,  explain  the  terrible  reality  of  inherited  corruption. 

Nor  is  it  less  remarkable  that  whilst  this  Law  of  action  "  in- 
herited and  organized  in  the  race  "  does  really  cover  and  ex- 
press the  facts  of  our  human  nature  as  well  as  the  Christian 
doctrine  on  the  subject,  it  is  of  no  force  or  value  whatever  in 
the  particular  argument  in  which  it  is  commonly  employed. 
The  Law  or  the  theory  of  action  "  inherited  and  organized  "  in 
races  was  conceived  and  laid  down  as  a  means  of  getting  rid  of 
and  superseding  the  idea  of  original  Instincts  and  Intuitions. 
But  this  it  can  never  do,  because,  as  we  have  seen,  all  animal 
Instincts  are  inseparably  connected  with  Structure,  and  are  in- 
variably the  expression  and  the  index  of  some  Organic  Appara- 
tus. Consequently,  as  every  Organic  Apparatus  is  a  growth, 
and  is  essentially  innate,  the  corresponding  impulses  of  Mind 
can  only  have  the  same  origin,  and  must  be  innate  precisely  in 
the  same  sense  and  in  the  same  degree.  The  truth  is  that  the 
law  of  Hereditary  Transmission,  like  the  law  of  Natural  Selec- 
tion, can  account  for  the  origin  of  nothing.  Neither  of  these 
laws  can  have  any  operation  except  upon  things  which  have  al- 
ready begun  to  be.  Whilst  therefore  the  law  of  Hereditary 
Transmission — or  as  it  is  now  called,  the  law  of  Heredity — 
can  never  account  for  the  origin  of  Organic  Instincts,  it  can, 

21 


322  THE     UNITY     OF     NATURE. 

and  it  does  in  some  degree,  account  for  the  perversion  of 
these  Instincts.  It  is  not  the  use,  but  the  abuse  of  In- 
stincts which  needs  an  explanation.  When  we  seek  to  know 
the  origin  of  anything,  we  assume  and  start  from  some  an- 
terior condition  of  things.  But  simple  non-existence  is  the 
only  condition  of  things  which  we  can  conceive  as  anterior 
to  the  first  origin  of  every  Organic  Being.  Its  Organs  can- 
not have  been  shaped  by  use ;  because  they  must  have 
been  formed  before  they  could  be  used.  But  when  we  come 
to  seek  an  explanation  of  the  origin  of  perverted  Instincts, 
and  of  corrupted  nature,  we  have  an  anterior  condition  of 
things  which  we  not  only  may,  but  which  we  must,  assume 
as  a  necessity  of  thought.  That  anterior  condition  is  one  in 
which  every  action  of  every  living  thing  began  and  grew  in 
perfect  unison  with  its  corresponding  Organic  Structure — not 
preceding  that  Structure  or  causing  it,  but  accompanying  its 
growth,  and  resulting  from  it.  Whilst  therefore  the  law  of 
Heredity  can  never  account  for  the  origin  of  Instincts  or  Intu- 
itions which  are  in  harmony  with  the  Order  and  the  Reasona- 
bleness of  Nature,  it  may  well  be  accepted  in  a  case  where  we 
have  to  account  for  tendencies  and  propensities  which  have  no 
such  character — which  are  exceptions  to  the  Unity  of  Nature, 
and  at  variance  with  all  that  is  intelligible  in  its  Order,  or  rea- 
sonable in  its  Law. 

If  all  explanation  essentially  consists  in  the  reduction  of 
phenomena  into  the  terms  of  human  thought  and  into  the  anal- 
ogies of  human  experience,  this  is  the  explanation  which  can 
alone  reconcile  the  unquestionable  Corruption  of  Human  Char- 
acter with  the  Analogies  of  Creation. 

I  must  now  bring  these  chapters  to  a  close.  If  the  conclu- 
sions to  which  they  point  are  true,  then  we  have  in  them  some 
foundation-stones  strong  enough  to  bear  the  weight  of  an  im- 
mense, and,  indeed,  of  an  immeasurable  superstructure.  If 
the  Unity  Of  Nature  is  not  a  unity  which  consists  in  mere 
sameness  of  material,  or  in  mere  identity  of  composition,  or  in 
mere  uniformity  of  structure,  but  a  unity  which  the  Mind  rec- 
ognizes as  the  result  of  operations  similar  to  its  own ;  if  Man, 
not  in  his  Body  only,  but  in  the  highest  as  well  as  in  the  lowest 


RECAPITULATIONS   ANt>   CONCLUSIONS.  323 

attributes  of  his  Spirit,  is  inside  this  Unity  and  part  of  it ;  if 
all  his  mental  powers  are,  like  the  Instincts  of  the  Beasts, 
founded  on  an  Organic  Harmony  between  his  Faculties  and 
the  realities  of  Creation  ;  if  the  limits  of  his  knowledge  do  not 
affect  its  certainty  ;  if  its  accepted  truthfulness  in  the  lower 
fields  of  thought  arises  out  of  correspondences  and  adjustments 
which  are  applicable  to  all  the  energies  of  his  Intellect,  and  all 
the  aspirations  of  his  Spirit ;  if  the  moral  character  of  Man,  as 
it  exists  now,  is  the  one  great  anomaly  in  Nature — the  one 
great  exception  to  its  Order  and  to  the  perfect  harmony  of  its 
laws  ;  if  the  corruption  of  this  moral  character  stands  in  imme- 
diate and  necessary  connection  with,  and  indeed  essentially 
consists  in,  rebellion  against  the  Authority  on  which  that  Order 
rests ;  if  all  ignorance  and  error  and  misconception  respecting 
the  nature  of  that  Authority  and  of  its  commands  has  been  and 
must  be  the  cause  of  increasing  deviation,  disturbance,  and 
perversion  ;  if  it  is  a  great  natural  law  that  every  tendency  of 
thought,  and  every  habit  of  Mind,  whether  in  a  right  or  in  a 
wrong  direction,  is  prone  to  become  inherited  and  organized  in 
the  race, — then,  indeed,  we  have  a  view  of  things  which  is  full 
of  light.  Dark  as  the  difficulties  which  remain  may  be,  they 
are  not  of  a  kind  to  undermine  all  certitude,  or  to  discomfit  all 
conviction.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  impressed  upon  us  that  the 
System  under  which  we  live,  is  not  only  a  System  accessible  to 
our  Intelligence,  but  so  united  to  it  that  all  the  mysteries  of 
the  Universe,  visible  and  invisible,  are  epitomized  and  enfolded 
in  ourselves.  And  so  we  come  to  feel  that  our  knowledge  and 
our  understanding  of  that  System  must  "grow  from  more  to 
more  "  in  proportion  as  the  whole  of  our  own  nature  is  laid  open 
to  the  whole  of  its  intimations,  and  the  highest  of  our  Faculties 
are  kept  in  conscious  and  wakeful  recognition  of  the  Work  and 
of  the  Power  to  which  they  stand  related.  Then  also  it  will 
come  to  be  plain  to  us  that  we  may  expect  in  that  System,  and 
that  we  may  trust  to  it  for,  teaching  of  the  highest  kind,  inso- 
much that  Inspiration  and  Revelation  are  to  be  regarded  not 
as  incredible,  or  even  as  rare  phenomena,  but  as  operations 
which  in  various  measures  and  degrees  are  altogether  accord- 
ing to  the  natural  constitution  and  course  -of  things.  For  of 
this  kind  essentially  are  all  the  wonderful  Instincts  of  the 


324  THE    UNITY    OF    NATURE. 

lower  animals  and  all  the  primary  Intuitions  of  the  human 
Mind.  Of  this  kind  especially  are  all  those  Gifts  and  Powers 
by  which  alone  we  can  gain  the  very  earliest  lessons  of  Experi- 
ence or  mount  the  very  first  steps  of  Reason.  And  as  these 
primary  Intuitions  of  the  Mind  give  us  our  first  entrance  into 
some  of  the  realities  which  lie  behind  phenomena,  so,  among 
these  realities  there  is  a  still  higher  region  into  which  our  en- 
trance may  well  be  gained  only  by  processes  which  are  analo- 
gous. For,  just  as  there  are  Truths  related  to  the  Reason 
which  only  the  Intellect  can  appreciate,  so  there  are  others  re- 
lated to  the  Spirit  which,  in  strict  analogy,  can  only  be  spiritu- 
ally discerned.  And  as,  on  the  principle  of  the  Unity  of 
Nature,  our  Spiritual  sense  must  be  the  Organic  expression 
and  result  of  a  relation  with  real  things,  it  is  to  be  confidently 
expected  that  it  can  and  will  be  fed  with  its  appropriate  food — 
that  it  can  and  will  be  strengthened  and  enlightened  by  com- 
munications from  a  kindred  Source. 

Let  destructive  criticism,  then,  do  its  work.  But  let  that 
work  be  itself  subjected  to  the  same  rigid  analysis  which  it  pro- 
fesses to  employ.  Under  this  analysis,  unless  I  am  much 
mistaken,  the  processes  of  the  Negative  Philosophy  will  be 
found  defective.  They  systematically  suppress  more  than  one- 
half  of  the  Facts  of  Nature  ;  and  as  systematically  they  silence 
more  than  one  half  of  the  Faculties  of  Man.  Moreover,  the 
Faculties  which  they  especially  try  to  silence  are  the  very  high- 
est Faculties  of  discernment  which  Nature  gives  to  us.  In  the 
physical  sciences  we  know  what  results  would  follow  from  such 
methods  of  treatment.  Our  work  in  the  human  Laboratory  is 
poor  and  weak  enough,  and  of  a  thousand  substances,  having 
marvellous  properties,  we  can  give,  after  all  is  done,  only  a  poor 
and  beggarly  account.  But  at  least  in  these  fields  of  research 
we  do  our  very  best.  Nothing  is  thrown  aside.  Nothing  is  un- 
observed. Nothing  is  unrecorded.  Every  particle  is  kept  that 
it  may  tell  its  story.  Nor  is  our  care  confined  to  the  Atoms  or 
to  the  Molecules  which  can  be  weighed  or  measured.  For 
when  the  Visible  is  transcended,  we  strain  all  the  powers  of 
Language  to  express  the  purely  intellectual  conceptions  of 
Force  and  Energy,  of  Affinity  and  of  Attraction,  which  are 
needed  to  help  our  understanding  of  the  facts  and  of  their  clynam- 


RECAPITULATIONS     AND     CONCLUSIONS.  325 

ical  interpretations.  With  all  these  helps,  that  understanding 
remains  imperfect.  Yet  in  the  far  more  difficult  work  of  inter- 
preting the  vast  System  of  Nature,  with  all  its  immeasurable 
wealth  of  Mind,  the  Agnostic  philosophy  deliberately  sets  aside 
everything  that  is  kindred  with  the  highest  parts  of  our  own 
moral  and  intellectual  Structure.  These  are  all  absolutely  ex- 
cluded from  the  meanings  and  the  sequences — from  the  antici- 
pations and  the  analogies  of  Creation.  To  those  who  have 
grasped  the  great  Doctrine  of  the  Unity  of  Nature,  and  have 
sounded  the  depth  of  its  meaning  and  the  sweep  of  its  applica- 
tions, this  method  of  inquiry  will  appear  self-condemned.  That 
which  pretends  to  be  the  universal  solvent  of  all  Knowledge, 
and  of  all  Belief,  will  be  found  to  be  destitute  of  any  power  to 
convict  of  falsehood  the  universal  Instinct  of  Man,  that  by  a 
careful  and  conscientious  use  of  the  appropriate  means — by  lis- 
tening to  the  appropriate  Voices — he  can,  and  he  does  attain — 
in  the  spiritual  regions  of  the  Invisible,  as  well  as  in  the  mate- 
rial regions  of  the  Physical  World — to  a  substantial  knowledge 
of  the  Truth. 


INDEX. 


ABERRANT  developments  of  Reason,  262. 

Aborigines  or  Autocthonoi,  the,  234. 

Acquisition  of  Knowledge,  the,  202. 

Action  of  the  Heart  in  Animals,  66. 

Activity  of  Atoms,  the,  129-130. 

Adaptation  of  Sensation,  the,  31. 

Adaptation,  Purpose  in,  119;  a  govern- 
ing principle  in  Nature,  167-168. 

Adaptations  of  Function,  the,  174. 

Adjustment,  presupposed  infinite  unity 
of,  14. 

Adjustments,  in  Physical  Phenomena,  19  ; 
cycle  of  operations  depending  on,  26 ; 
resulting  production  of,  26 ;  connected 
with  Organic  Life,  33,  34  ;  of  Organs 
of  Sense,  37,  38 ;  between  bodily  Or- 
gans and  Instincts,  46 ;  unity  of  uni- 
versal, 47  ;  the  element  of,  69 ;  a  ground 
of  faith,  72  ;  our  faculties  a  result  and 
index  of,  73,  74  ;  of  Light  and  Sound 
to  Sense,  96 ;  in  relation  to  Life,  175  ; 
in  Religious  Beliefs,  295  ;  authority  of 
structural,  312,313. 

Affections  and  Appetites,  the,  264. 

Affinites  in  Instinct  to  Mind,  64. 

Affinities  of  Sense-Impressions,  39. 

Affinity,  Chemical,  rapidity  of  action  of, 
84  ;  of  Atoms,  129,  131,  149. 

African  Continent,  Man  on  the,  243. 

African  Negroes,  Religion,  of,  285. 

Agassiz'  objection  to  Development  the- 
ory, 172,  173. 

Age  of  idea  of  Unity  of  Nature,  i,  2. 

Agnostic  Philosophy,  foundation  of  the, 
76. 

Agnostic,  the  doubt  of  the,  75. 

Agnosticism,  morbid  nature  of,  73  ;  fun- 
damental inconsistency  in,  166. 

Aim  of  Man's  Life,  the,  205. 

Albumen,  the,  "  Differentiation  "  of,  23. 

Alkaline  Metals,  146. 

Ambiguity  of  the  word  Supernatural, 
163- 

American  Civilization,  ancient,  253-257. 

American  Merganser,  the,  61. 

Amoeba,  constituent  elements  of  the,  29  ; 
a  Microscopic  Organism,  154. 


Analogies  prevailing  in  the  Circle  of 
Forces,  12. 

Analysis  of  Mind  and  Matter,  194. 

Anas  Boschus^  the,  51. 

A  natidte,  young  of  the,  59. 

Anatomist,  the  work  of  the,  4. 

Anatomy  of  Whales,  the,  158. 

Ancient  and  Modern  Atomism,  123,  124. 

Aniline  Dyes,  146. 

Animal  Automatism,  47,  57,  73,  177,  288. 

Animal  Instinct,  39,  53 ;  in  relation  to 
Man,  49;  not  self-developed,  54,  55; 
congenital  and  innate,  56  ;  affinities  of, 
to  Mind,  64;  origin  of,  70;  definition 
of,  72. 

Animal  Life,  special  function  of,  26. 

Animal  Organisms,  the  Tissues  of,  151. 

Animals,  impulse  and  power  in,  187-188. 

Animal  Worship,  origin  of,  287-291. 

Anomaly  in  Human  Development,  213, 
217  ;  in  nest  of  Gall-fly,  42, 44. 

Antarctic  Circle,  configuration  of  the, 
236. 

Antecedence,  uniform  or  necessary,  82. 

Anthropomorphism,  an  exaggerated  form 
of,  70 ;  literal  meaning  of,  99  ;  central 
idea  of  objections  to,  100  ;  a  spurious 
kind  of,  120 ;  identification  with  the  Su- 
pernatural, 165  ;  objectionable  form  of, 
167;  physical  conceptions  in,  176;  con- 
ception of  Matter  founded  on,  181. 

Anthropopsychism,  or  Man-Soulism,  100  ; 
false  assumptions  underlying,  102,  114; 
demand  upon  in  system  of  Nature,  133  • 
Creation  and  Evolution  complementary 
to,  162 ;  exclusion  of,  in  Nature,  163  ; 
propositions  involved  in  denial  of,  165 ; 
refutation  of,  165-166 ;  true  and  legiti- 
mate, 167  ;  characteristic  of  Mr.  Dar- 
win's language,  170, 171,  181 ;  of  Profes- 
sor Tyndall's,  171 ;  relative  to  interpre- 
tations of  Nature,  174-175 ;  applied  to 
Arnold's  conception  of  a  Divine  Be- 
ing, 175 ;  relative  to  Physical  Concep- 
tions, 177  ;  relative  to  Mental  Concep- 
tions, 182,  186  ;  a  sublime  kind  of,  300. 

Anthropos,  the,  of  the  Greeks,  183. 


INDEX. 


Antiquity  of  La-nd-masses,  238. 

Aphorism,  an  ancient,  167,  172. 

Apparatuses  in  Nature,  the,  121. 

Appetite  in  Man  and  Animals,  213,  216. 

Appetite,  tru-e  explanation  of,  664. 

Arctic  Circle,  configuration  of  the,  237. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  on  the  Divine  Being, 
175-176. 

Arrowhead  a  flint,  106. 

Artificial  Acquirements  of  the  Dog,  54. 

Artificial  and  Abstract  Definitions,  signif- 
icance of,  21. 

Art  surpassed  by  Instinct,  51. 

Aryans,   Religious  Conceptions  of,  302- 

3°5- 

Aryans,  Religious  Thought  among  the,  2. 

Aspects  of  Relation  between  Man  and 
Nature,  103. 

Assimilation  of  food,  the,  31. 

Association  of  Ideas,  the,  191. 

Assumptions  regarding  origin  of  Re- 
ligion, 309-312. 

Atmosphere,  composition  of  the,  136. 

Atom,  early  ideas  regarding  the,  123, 
124;  the  unit  of  chemical  combination, 
126  ;  of  modern  Science,  127-128  ;  u  Val- 
ency" of  the,  129-130;  chemical  af- 
finity in  the,  131 ;  combination  or  "  in- 
terlocking" of  the,  149-150. 

Attiwenderonks,  Indian  tribe  of  the,  256. 

Authority,  the  Supreme,  208-213. 

Australasia,  Fauna  and  Flora  of,  244-245. 

Australian  Tribes,  Religion  of,  269. 

Automatic  Movements,  physical,  117. 

Automatism,  Animal,  47  ;  scrutiny  of  the 
proposition,  57 ;  comforting  nature  of 
the  conception,  73 ;  as  Reflex  Action, 
124 ;  with  reference  to  origin  of  Re- 
ligion, 288. 

Autocthonoi  or  Aborigines,  234. 

Axiom  of  Intelligibility  of  Nature,  US- 


BAFFIN'S  BAY,  Man  on  the  Shores  of,  240. 

Bakerian  Lecture  on  Light,  the,  8. 

Baleen  of  Whales,  the,  157. 

Balfour  Stewart,  Professor,  on  Light  and 
Heat,  17 ;  on  "  Conservation  of  En- 
ergy," 87. 

Barbarism  and  Savagery,  signification  of 
the  terms,  227;  not  primeval,  228. 

Basis  of  Life,  the  Physical,  21. 

Basis  of  Knowledge,  Experience  the,  85, 
88. 

Basis  of  Reasoning,  the,  72. 

Bates'  "  Naturalist  on  the  Amazon,"  252. 

tsay  of  Chaleur,  the,  109. 

Beagle,  the,  at  Tierra  del  Fuego,  239. 


Beaver  Art,  a  work  of,  *og. 

Bees,  intuitive  instinct  of,  46. 

Behring's  Straits,  configuration  of,  237. 

Belfast  Address,  Professor  Tyndall's,  164, 
171. 

Belief,  Systems  of,  453,  475. 

Belief  in  the  existence  of  God,  268,  310, 
3"- 

Berkeley,  Bishop,  proposition  of,  36. 

Biology,  interest  attaching  to,  155. 

Birds,  deceptions  by,  51,  60. 

Birds,  intuitive  perceptions  of,  41. 

Birth  of  Germs,  the,  160. 

Blood-corpuscles,  protoplasmic,  30. 

Blood,  corpuscles  of  the,  153;  circulation 
of  the,  154 ;  differentiation  of  the,  177. 

Bodily  Organs  and  Instincts,  adjustments 
between,  46. 

Bone,  the  formation  of,  24. 

Bony  structure  of  Animal  Bodies,  154. 

"  Book  of  the  Dead,"  the,  304,  305. 

Brahminism,  the  beliefs  of,  297-299 ;  cen- 
tral idea  of,  304. 

Brain-Structure,  Mind   pre-supposed   in, 

I20-I2I. 

Brodie,  Sir  B.,  on  "  Ideal  Chemistry,"  130. 

Buddhism,  297-299. 

"Building  up"  of  Organic  compounds, 

147. 

Bushmen  of  Africa,  the,  243. 
Butler,  Bishop,   "On  the  ignorance  of 

Man,"  08. 

CALCIUM  or  lime  in  bone,  24. 
Caloric,  definitions  of,  17. 
Cannibalism  and  Infanticide  not  prime- 
val, 228. 

Carbon,  the  Atom  of,  129. 
Carbon,  transmutation  of,  10. 
Cartesians,  the  view  of  Orthodox,  64. 
Carter's  exploration  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 

255- 

Cartilage  and  Bone,  24. 

Caterpillar,  Cocoon  of  the,  43. 

Causation,  the  concept  of,  82,  84. 

Cell-growth  in  Plants,  167. 

u  Cell,"  the  living,  145  ;  the  unit  of  Or- 
ganic Structure,  152. 

Central  conception  of  Derivative  Hy- 
pothesis, 168. 

Central  idea  of  Brahminism,  304. 

Central  idea  of  Mr.  Darwin's  system, 
170. 

Central  question  of  Ethical  Inquiry,  200. 

Central  Unities  of  Nature,  recognition  ~>t 
the,  47. 

Centrifugal  Force,  117. 

Changes  in  Species,  158, 


INDEX. 


329 


Channel  of  Mental  Communication,  the 

37- 

Characteristics  of  Civilization,  225. 
Character,  Moral,  in  Man,  187. 
Character  of  Man,  degradation  of,  221. 
Character  of  Sensation,  fundamental,  37. 
Chemical  Affinities,  combinations  effected 

by,  34- 

Chemical  Affinity,  power  of  Ether  on,  9: 
mysterious  nature  of,  n;  forces  origi- 
nating unknown,  19 ;  rapidity  of  action 
of,  141 ;  in  Atoms,  130;  in  Marine  Life, 
139  ;  in  Metallic  Operations,  141-142  ;  in 
Organic  and  Inorganic,  144-151. 
Chemical  combination,  laws  of,  150. 
Chemical  combinations  of  Atoms,  130. 
Chemical  effects  of  Light,  19. 
Chemical  Force,  resources  of  132  ;  as  an 

instrument  of  Purpose,  133. 
Chemical    relationship   of   Animals  and 

Plants  to  Man,  28. 
Chemistry  of  the  Blood,  153. 
Chemistry  of  the  Metals,  139,  et  seq. 
Chemist,  work  of  the,  4. 
Chick  of  Birds,  the  embryo,  42. 
Cinclus  aquaticus,  the,  49. 
Circulating  Fluids  of  the  Body,  action  of 

the,  31. 

Circulation  of  the  Blood,  the,  154. 
"  Circumnutation  "  in  Plant-life,  168. 
Civilization,  ancient    American,   253,  et 

seg. 
Civilization,  meaning  of,  225  ;  origin  of, 

232. 
44  Classification  of  Insects,"  Westwood's, 

46. 

Classifying  Instinct  in  Man,  the,  15. 
Clerk  Maxwell,  Professor,  on  the  Chem- 
istry of  the  Atom,  128, 153. 
Cocoon  of  the  Caterpillar,  43. 
Cohantis,  belief  of  the,  285. 
Coincidence  of  early  and  modern  ideas 

of  Atoms,  123-124. 
Colonization,  motives  for,  248. 
Colors  of  the  Solar  Spectrum,  13. 
Combinations  affected  by  Chemical  Affini- 
ties, 34,  150. 
Combinations  of  Oxygen,  chemical,  133- 

134  ;  of  inorganic  substances,  134-135. 
Community  of  structure  of  Man  and  Ani- 
mals, 32. 

Comparative  Anatomist,  work  of  the,  4. 
Comparative  Anatomy,  a  doctrine  of,  156. 
Complex  physical  machinery,  a,  153. 
Composition  and  properties  of  Water,i36. 
Composition  of  Man's  Body,  28. 
Composition  of  Solar  Light,  13. 
Comprehensive  truth,  a,  167. 


Comte's  religious  belief,  271,  284,291. 

Concentrations  of  Force,  81-82. 

Conception  of  Evolution,  a  perfect,  207. 

Conception  of  Living  Agencies,  the,  278- 
281. 

Conceptions  of  Space  and  Time,  the,  79, 
82,  84. 

Conceptions  of  the  Divine  Being,  301-305. 

Conceptions  of  Science,  fundamental,  84- 
86. 

Conditions  essential  to  Life,  152. 

Conduct  and  the  Moral  Sense,  191-207. 

Configuration  of  the  Globe,  the,  236-237. 

Congenital  Instincts,  56. 

Connection  between  Life  and  bodily 
mechanism,  65. 

Connection  between  Physical  Forces,  10. 

Connection  of  Mind  and  Matter,  181-182. 

Conscience  or  Moral  Sense,  194. 

Consciousness,  an  accompaniment  and  re- 
sult of  Life,  34. 

Consciousness  of  God,  Man's,  316. 

Conscious  sensation  dependent  on  struct- 
ure, 66. 

Conservation  of  energy,  17,  8r. 

Constituents  of  the  human  body,  26. 

Constitution  of  Matter,  conceptions  re- 
garding, 123-124. 

Constitution  of  the  Sun,  physical,  183. 

Continuity,  the  Law  of,  83,  84. 

Contradictory  aspects  of  Mind  to  Matter, 
"5- 

Constructive  agencies  in  Nature,  23,  24, 

121. 

Co-ordination  and  adjustment  in  the  facts 
of  Life,  34. 

Copper,  141. 

Corpuscles  of  Blood,  the,  153. 

Correlation  of  laws  of  growth  with  utility, 
168. 

Correlation  of  Forces,  the,  83. 

Correlation  of  Natural  Forces,  170. 

Correspondence  of  Man  and  Animals, 
physical,  67,  70. 

Corresponding  Instincts  and  Bodily  Or. 
gans,  46. 

Cosmogony,  an  ancient,  234. 

Counterfeiting  helplessness,  birds,  51,  61. 

Courage  and  Patriotism,  226. 

Course  of  Development  in  Man,  215-216. 

k  Crag,"  the  Gravels  of  the,  106. 

Creation,  harmony  in  economy  of,  224. 

'Creation  by  Law,"  theories  and  con- 
ceptions of,  32. 

Creation,  processes  of,  160,  162. 

Creative  power,  Mr.  Darwin  on,  165. 

Crude  conceptions  of  old  Materialism, 
125. 


330 


INDEX. 


Cruelty  arising  from  good   motives,   199, 

200. 

Crystallization  and  Organization,  155. 
Crystallization,  the  processes  of,  24. 
Crystals,  structure  of,  149. 
Cuckoo,  special  instincts  of  the,  188. 
Current  of  the  Blood,  the,  154. 
Customs,  Savage,  286. 
Cyanogen  compounds,  146. 
Cycle  of  Forces,  the  great,  u. 
Cycle  of  Organic  Development,  161. 
Cynips  Kolleri,  the,  42. 

DAHOMEY,  religious  customs  of,  286. 

Dam,  the  Beaver's,  no. 

Danger  of  inadequate  conceptions  of 
Unity,  4. 

Dante  on  Instinct  in  Man,  320. 

Darwin,  Mr.,  weak  point  in  his  theory  of 
Development,  157  ;  on  Creative  Power, 
165  ;  on  the  principles  of  Adaptation, 
168  ;  on  the  "  Movements  of  Plants," 
168-170  ;  central  idea  of  his  system,  170 ; 
anthropopsychic  language  of,  171,  181 ; 
on  Origin  of  Man,  236 ;  on  the  natives 
of  Tierra  del  Fuego,  239,  241. 

"  Data  of  Ethics,"  Spencer's,  205,  207. 

Dawson's  "  Fossil  Men,"  255,  256. 

Dean  of  Chester,  the,  on  "  Form,"  99, 100. 

De  Brosses  on  the  term  Fetish,  284. 

Deceptions  by  Birds,  51,  61. 

Deceptive  aspect  of  the  relation  of  Cause 
and  Effect,  102. 

Declension  of  Mahommedanism,  the,  295. 

Decline  of  Civilization  among  Indians, 
254,  255. 

Definition  of  Instinct  or  Intuition,  72. 

Definition  of  Knowledge,  a,  3. 

Definition  of  Life,  the,  33  ;  Herbert  Spen- 
cer's, 175. 

Definition  of  Light  and  Heat,  15. 

Definition  of  Organic  Chemistry,  146. 

Definition  of  Religion,  Schleiermacher's, 
267 ;  Tiele's,  268. 

Degenerate  Developments  of  Religion, 
283. 

Degradation— of  females  among  Savages, 
217,218;  of  character  and  condition  in 
Man,  221,  223,  233,  234  ;  a  result  of  ad- 
verse conditions,  250,  253  ;  due  to  in- 
ternecine strife,  254,  256  ;  due  to  inter- 
nal causes,  257  ;  continuity  of,  282,  283  ; 
in  Religion,  286,  294;  in  animal  wor- 
ship, 290. 

Deifications  of  Nature,  Vedic,  303. 

Deity,  Man's  relations  to  the,  184-186. 

Delegation  of  Natural  Powers,  the,  m, 

112. 


Delusion  in  regard  to  Inwardness,  115, 

116. 

Denial  of  a  God,  the,  269,  270. 
Dependence,  the,  of  Man,  210. 
Derivation  of  Man's  first  beliefs,  2. 
Derivative   Hypothesis,  the,   applied   to 
Organic  Life,  168  ;   its  central  concep- 
tion, 168. 

Descartes  and  the  word  "  Idea,"  36  j  doc- 
trine of,  64,  65. 
Desire  of  knowledge,  189,  190. 

Development,  of  Seeds  and  Eggs,  25 ; 
Structural,  155,  156 ;  process  of,  in  In- 
sects, 157  ;  weak  point  in  Darwin's  the- 
ory of,  159  ;  of  Germs,  161 ;  central  con- 
ception of,  168,  170;  founded  on  Teleol- 
ogy* *?! ;  Agassiz'  objection  to  the- 
ory of,  173  ;  a  familiar  fact  of  Creation, 
213 ;  seeming  anomaly  in  Human,  214, 
215  ;  in  the  germs  of  good  and  evil,  230 ; 
Time  an  element  of,  231,  232  ;  connec- 
tion of  Origin  of  Man  with,  246;  in  a 
wrong  direction,  254-257 ;  in  the  ad- 
vances of  Reason,  259  ;  retrograde  steps 
in  Moral,  260-262  ;  in  the  law  of  Natural 
Adjustment,  313-315  ;  a  necessary  con- 
dition of,  317. 

Difference  between  Man  and  Animals, 
77  ;  between  Religion  and  Superstition, 
283. 

Difference  in  living  Organisms,  151. 

Difference,  Knowledge  a  perception  of,  3. 

"  Differentiated  "  Organisms,  23,  25,  177. 

Difficulties  in  the  belief  of  the  Supernat- 
ural, 163,  164. 

Digestion,  chemical  processes  of,  31. 

Dipper,  the,  or  Water-ousel,  49  ;  curious 
anecdote  of  a  young,  50,  54,  58,  59. 

Disease,  the  phenomena  of,  30. 

Dispositions,  perverted,  in  Man,  217-220. 

Dissipation  of  Energy,  the,  82. 

Distinction  between  Man  and  Nature, 
102-104. 

Distinction  between  Relative  and  "  Un- 
conditioned," 91,  92. 

Distinctions  between  Light  and  Heat, 
15-18. 

Distinctions  existing  in  Nature,  33. 

Distortion  of  Vegetable  Vitality,  an  un- 
natural, 44,  45. 

Distribution  of  Human  Race,  234-251. 

Diversity  of  relations,  infinite,  3,  4. 

Dividing-line  of  Mind  and  Matter,  104. 

Divine  Being,  conceptions  of  the,  301-305. 

Divine  Being,  the,  of  Matthew  Arnold, 

i75i  J?6- 

Divorce  of  Religion  and  Worship,  268, 269. 
Dixey,  F.  A.,  on  Ossification,  25. 


INDEX. 


33' 


Doctrine  of  Comparative  Anatomy,  156. 

Doctrine  of  "  Homologies,"  the,  31. 

Doctrine  of  Original  Sin,  the,  320,  321. 

Doctrine  of  Transmigration  of  Souls,  the, 
298. 

Dog,  acquirements  of  the,  54,  55  ;  decep- 
tion of  the,  by  birds,  61,  62. 

Domestic  Animals  in  Tropical  America, 
252. 

Dormouse,  Nest  of  the,  43. 

Double  Personality,  a,  in  Man,  71. 

Doubt  of  the  Agnostic,  the,  75. 

Downvvardness  and  Upwardness  in  Space, 
114,  115. 

Duality  of  mental  operations,  70,  71. 

Dun-diver,  the,  50. 

"  Dyaus,"  the  appellative,  302. 

EAR,  the,  and  Sound-vibrations,  38. 
Earth-formation,  the  processes  of,  105-106. 
Effects  of  Light,  chemical,  19. 
Egg,  Development  from  the,  159,177. 
Eggs  and  Seeds,  Development  of,  25. 
Egypt,  the  Religion  of,  287,  289,  305. 
Egyptian  Polytheism,  2. 
Electricity,  identification  of,  with  Chem- 
ical Force,  n. 

Electricity,  connection  of  Ether  with,  9. 
Elementary    character    of  Moral  Sense, 

IQI,  192,  193. 
Elementary    substances    in    Atmosphere 

and  Soil,  28  ;  combinations  of,  134,  136, 

140. 

Element  of  adjustment,  the,  69 
Elements  of  metaphor,  the,  47. 
Elimination  of  the  Supernatural,  Tyn- 

dall's,  164. 
Emotions  of  Animals,  Malebranche  on 

the,  64,  65. 

Energies  of  Nature,  Personality  in,  276. 
Energy  of  vegetable  growth,  42, 
Energy,  the  Conservation  of,   81  ;    Mr. 

Balfour  Stewart  on,  87. 
Errors  in  generalizations  of  science,  4,  5. 
Eskimo  or  Inuit  race,  the,  239,  241,  243, 

248. 

Essence  of  Life  and  Death,  the,  34. 
Ether,  fact  of  an  universal,  7  ;  its  nature, 

8  ;  the  Element  of  other  Forces,  9,  12  ; 

vibrations  in,  17. 

Ethical  Inquiry,  central  question  of,  200. 
Ethical  Philosophy,  the  two  Schools  of, 

186. 

Ethical  Sentiment,  Grote  on,  193. 
Etymology,  Theories  of  Scientific,  307. 
Example,  the  influence,  of,  281. 
Exceptional   Development  in   Man,  215, 

216. 


Exception  to  ordinary  laws,  an,  43,  44. 

Exhibitions  of  Animal  Instinct,  50,  53. 

Existence  of  God,  belief  in,  268,  310,  311. 

Experience,  the  Origin  of,  56 ;  the  Basis 
of  Knowledge,  85,  86,  88,  89. 

Explanation  of  Moral  Anomalies,  222. 

Explosive  Forces,  principle  of,  8r. 

Extravagances  of  Buddhism,  297,  298. 

Exudations  of  Vegetable  Organisms,  41. 

Evil  and  good,  the  germs  of,  230,  231. 

Evils  of  the  Savage  state,  217,  218. 

Evolution,  the  accepted  idea  of,  55  ;  Physi- 
cal Organism  in,  156-161 ;  Man  a  product 
of,  166 ;  Agassiz'  objection  to  theory  of, 
J72i  I73  5  a  perfect  conception  of,  207  ; 
relative  to  good  and  evil,  230,  231  ;  the 
evidence  of  Paleontology  regarding, 
252,  253 ;  result  of  the  process  of,  in 
Man,  257  ;  Fetishism  a  work  of,  319. 

Eye,  the  retina  of  the,  70. 

FACT  of  an  universal  Ethe'r,  7  ;  its  nature, 

8. 
Factors,  unseen,  in  System  of  Nature,  23, 

24,  41. 
Facts  of  Organic  Life,  fundamental,  29, 

30 ;  co-ordination  and  adjustment  in,  33, 

34- 

Faculties,  Mental,  194-196. 

Faculty  of  Imitation,  the,  56. 

Fallacy  in  use  of  word  ''Utility,"  205, 
206,  208. 

False  conclusion  from  reflex  Nerve  action, 
65,  66. 

"•  Familiar  Lectures  on  Scientific  Sub- 
jects," Herschel's,  9. 

Fauna  and  Flora  of  Australasia,  244-246. 

Fear  of  punishment,  the,  212. 

Female  degradation  among  Savages,  217, 
218. 

Fetishism,  Max  Miiller  on,  284  ;  Comte's, 
291,  292  ;  a  corruption  of  Religion,  319. 

Finite  and  the  Infinite,  the,  79. 

First  beliefs,  Man's,  2. 

First   consciousness  of  God,  Man's,  316- 

319- 

First  inventions  of  Man,  306,  307 
Fitzroy,  Captain,  and  the  Fuegians,  240. 
Flower,    Professor,    on    the     Origin    of 

Whales,  156. 

Food,  the  Assimilation  of,  31. 
Force  and  Matter  cognizable  as  Infinite, 

79,  80. 

Force,  Mechanical,  or  Machines,  57,  58. 
Force,  the  Order  of  Nature  dependent 

on,  81. 
Forces  of  Nature,  Man's  relationship  with 

the,  33. 


332 


INDEX. 


Forces,  the  correlation  of,  83,  "  Form," 
the  Dean  of  Chester  on  the  word,  99, 

IOO. 

Foresights  of  Nature,  the,  114,  115. 
Formation  of  bone,  the,  24,  25. 
Formative   energies  of  Development,  25. 
Forms  of  Motion,  Light  and  Heat  as,  15. 
"  Fossil  Men,"  Dawson's,  255,  256. 
Fossil  teeth  of  Sharks,  107. 
Foster's  "  Text-Book  of  Physiology,"  66, 

iS3»  !79,  l8°- 

Foundation  of  the  Agnostic  Philosophy, 
76. 

Foundations  of  Reason,  Physical,  73. 

Four  Stages  of  Religion,  Comte's,  284. 

"Fragments  on  Ethical  Subjects,'' 
Grote's,  193. 

Freedom  of  the  Will,  the,  73,  74,  263. 

Fulness  of  Life  in  the  Sea,  137,  138. 

Functional  adaptations,  174. 

Function  and  Structure,  unity  of,  113. 

Functions  and  Powers  of  Atoms,  128, 129. 

Functions  of  Organic  Structure,  152. 

Fundamental  Belief  of  all  Religions,  275. 

Fundamental  conceptions  of  Science,  84, 
85,  86. 

Fundamental  elements  in  Organic  Life, 
29,  30. 

Fundamental  inconsistency  in  Agnosti- 
cism, 165,  166. 

GALL-FLIES,  the  common,  41-46. 
Galvanism,  connection  of  Ether  with,  9. 
Gamgee's    "  Physiological     Chemistry," 

153- 

Geology,  the  teaching  of,  238 ;  in  refer- 
ence to  Creation,  252,  253. 

Generalization  a  work  of  Selection,  4. 

General  truths,  recognitions  of,  86. 

•'Genesis of  Species,"  Mivart's,  173. 

Germs,  the  Development  of,  25,  160,  161 ; 
potentiality  in,  156. 

Giraffe,  palate  of  the,  157. 

Globe,  configuration  of  the,  235,  237. 

God,  Man's  relations  to,  184-186. 

Godhead,  true  idea  of  the,  300. 

Golden  Rule,  the,  and  Utilitarianism,  203, 

210. 

Gold,  native  purity  of,  140. 

Good  and  Evil,  the  germs  of,  230,  231. 

"  Governor,"  the,  in  the  Steam-engine, 
116. 

Gravels,  the  composition  of,  105, 106. 

Gravitation,  universality  of,  56;  all-per- 
vading force  of,  80  ;  the  mystery  of,  124, 
125. 

Great  Being,  Comte's,  291-293. 

Greek  Anthropos,  the,  183. 


Greek  Kosmos,  the,  i. 

Grote's  "  Fragments  on  Ethical  Sub- 
jects," 193. 

Grove,  Sir  W.,  on  Light  and  Heat,  16  ;  on 
Correlation  of  Forces,  83  ;  on  "  Nature 
abhors  a  vacuum,"  167. 

Growth  of  Knowledge,  the,  187,  188. 

Grub  of  the  Gall-fly,  42. 

Gulf  between  living  and  non-living,  33. 

HABITAT  of  the  Dipper,  49. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.,  91,  92. 

Harmonies  in  Nature,  pre-established,  54, 

56. 

Harmonies  of  the  Spectrum,  14. 
Harmony  in  economy  of  Creation,  224. 
Hearing  and  Sight,  the  language  of  Sen- 
sation, 31. 
Heat  and  Light,  distinctions  between,  15, 

17,  18. 
Heat,  definition  of,  16,  17  ;  separable  from 

Light,    20 ;    Motion  the  cause  of,   83 ; 

Light  the  cause  of,  83  ;  reflex  action  in, 

178. 

"  Heaven- Father,"  the,  299,  300,  302. 
Heavens,  mechanism  of  the,  6. 
Helplessness,  birds  counterfeiting,  51,  59- 

61. 

Helplessness  of  Man,  the,  210,  212. 
Hereditary  Transmission,  law  of,  321,  322. 
Heroes  of  Humanity,  the,  293. 
Herschel,  Sir  John,  on   Light,  89  ;  on  the 

Atom,  127, 128. 
11  Hibbert  Lectures,"  Max  Miiller's,  269, 

273,  284,  285,  299,  306,  308  ;   Renouf's,  2, 

305- 
Higher  unities  obscured  in  Physical,  18- 

20. 

Hill  Tribes  of  India,  the,  252. 
''Hinduism,"   Monier  Williams  on,  304, 

306. 
"History  of  Materialism,"  Lange's,  118, 

1 20. 

Hochelaga,  the  Indians  of,  256. 
House  of  Life,  primary  agent  in  building 

the,  30. 
Homologies,  Physical,  between  Man  and 

Animals,  166. 

"  Homologies,"  the  Doctrine  of,  31. 
Hottentots  of  Africa,  the,  243. 
How,  What,  and  Why,  the,  96. 
Human  Art  easily  discerned,  106. 
Human  Development,  moral  sense  in,  201. 

202  ;  anomaly  in,  213-216. 
Human  Immigration,  240-251. 
Human  inquiry,  the  great  subjects  of,  96. 
Humanity,  Comte's  Worship  of,  271,  284, 

291-294. 


INDEX. 


333 


Human  Knowledge,  limits  of,  75. 

Human  Mechanism,  principle  of,  313,314 

Human  Mind,  the  only  type  of  the  Super- 
natural, 163. 

Human  perversions,  216-220. 

Human  Race,  distribution  of  the,  234-251 

Hunger  and  Taste,  universal  sensations 
of  Animal  Organisms,  39. 

Hunger  and  Thirst,  the  origin  of,  264. 

Huxley,  Professor,  and  the  "Physical 
Basis  of  Life,"  21 ;  on  the  Phenomena 
of  Vivisection,  65  ;  his  "  Science  Prim- 
ers," 155. 

"  Hydro-Carbons,"  chemistry  of  the,  146. 

Hydrogen,  the  Atom  of,  127. 

Hypothesis  of  Molecular  constitution, 
126. 

Hypothesis  of  various  Origins  of  Man, 
232. 

u  IDEA,"  meaning  attached  to  the  word, 
36,  37- 

"  Ideal  Chemistry,"  Sir  B.  Brodie's,  130. 

Idealism,  the  extreme  doctrine  of,  36. 

Idealistic  Philosophy,  error  in  the,  89. 

Ideas,  association  of,  191. 

Identification  of  Man  with  the  supernat- 
ural, 164. 

Identity  and  uniformity  of  Atoms,  127, 
128. 

"  Identity  of  Light  and  Heat,"  Professor 
Tyndall  on  the,  15. 

Identity  of  Origin  and  Function  in  Man 
and  Animals,  166. 

Ignorance,  Man's  Sense  of,  188-190,  198. 

Imagination,  the  Origin  of,  277. 

Imitation,  the  Faculty  of,  56. 

Immigration,  Human,  240-251. 

"  Impenetrability"  of  Matter,  150. 

Impressions  and  conceptions  of  Instinct, 

7i- 

Improbability  of  Agnostic  Philosophy, 
166. 

Impulse  and  movement  "  incommensur- 
ate," 179,  180. 

Impulse  and  Power,  187,  188. 

Inadequate  conceptions  of  Unity,  danger 
of,  4. 

Incapacity  or  Restraint,  77,  78. 

Incomprehensible  reality,  Matter  an,  91, 
92. 

Inconceivability  of  a  First  Man,  307,  308. 

Inconsistency  in  Agnosticism  fundamen- 
tal, 166. 

Indestructibility  of  Matter,  the,  80,  81, 
84,  85- 

Indians  of  North  America,  253-256. 

Inexplicable  natural  operation,  an,  44,  45. 


"  Infinite,"  conception  of  the,  271, 273, 274, 

300,  302,  310. 

Infinite,  the,  a  conception  of  Science,  85. 
Infinite   Unity   of   Adjustment  presup- 
posed, 14,  15. 

"  Innate  ideas"  in  Nature,  54. 
Innate  sense  of  Unity  in  Nature,  Man's,  5. 
Inorganic  combinations,  134-136. 
Inorganic,  Chemistry  of  the,  146. 
Inorganic  Kingdom,  common  elements 

in,  28. 

Inorganic,  sphere  of  the,  149. 
Inorganic  structure,  148. 
Inorganic   structures   merely  chemical, 

iso- 
lnorganic   World,    the    pre-adapted    to 

organic,  139. 

Inquiry  into  Origin  of  Religidhy  270-300. 
Insect  Life  in  the  Riviera,  52. 
Insects,  the  Metamorphoses  of,  157,  161. 
Insidedness  and  Outsidedness,  114. 
Inspiration  of  Faith,  Instinct  an,  60. 
Instinctive  or  Intuitional  Perceptions^. 
Instinct,  its  Unity  with  Nature,  40,  41  ;of 
the  Gall-fly,  46 ;  in  relation  to  Man,  41 ; 
of  the  young  Dipper,  50 ;  of  the  Wild 
Duck,  51;  of  a  Moth  in  the  Riviera,  52,  53; 
not  Self-developed,  54  ;  alway  Congen- 
ital and  Innate,  55,  56  ;  an  Inspiration 
of  Faith,  60  ;  Reasoning  implicit  in,  63  ; 
Affinities  in,  to  Mind,  64  ;  Man  cognizant 
of,  70 ;  Origin  of,  70 ;  Definition  o.f,  72  ; 
the  result  of  unseen  laws,   73 ;  of  the 
Savage,  87 ;  of  the  Cuckoo,  188 ;  as  a 
substitute  for  Reason  in  Lower  Ani- 
mals, 214,  215. 

Intellect  a  Product  of  Nature,  171. 
Intelligence  and  Will,  Definition  of,  112. 
Intelligence,  Animal,  39-41. 
Intelligence,  the  Growth  of,  187. 
Intelligent  Perception,  range  of,  35. 
Intelligibility  of  Nature,  axiom  of  the, 

118,  122. 
Intuition,    Animal,  40,  41 ;   or  Instinct, 

Definition  of,  71. 
Intuitive  Knowledge,  87,  88. 
Inutility  and  Utility,  205. 
'  Invisible,"  Conception  of  the,  273,  300, 

302,  310. 

tron  and  its  Combinations,  140,  141. 
[roquois  and  Mohawks,  the,  255,  256. 

KANT  on  Intuitive  Knowledge,  89. 

Knowledge,  a  Definition  of,  3  ;  consists 
in  the  Perception  of  Relations,  90  ;  in 
what  it  consists,  96  ;  the  Acquisition  of, 
202. 

knowledge  and  Reason,  100,  101. 


334 


INDEX. 


Knowledge  identified  with  Religion,  271. 
Knowledge  of  Matter,  our,  91,  92. 
Knowledge  of  the  Related  and  the  Real, 

97- 

Knowledge,  Relative,  90. 
Kosmos,  the,  of  the  Greeks,  i. 

LABORATORY,  Triumphs  of  the,  147. 
Lakes  Erie  and  Huron,  Tribes  of,  256, 
Land  Masses  older  than  Man,  238. 
Lange's  "  History  of  Materialism,"  118, 

I2C. 

Language  and  Thought,  64. 

Language,  Distinctions  recognized  in, 
103. 

Language  of  Sensation,  the,  31. 

Language,  Value  of  Metaphorical,  174. 

Law  cf  Continuity,  the,  83,  84. 

Law  of  Heredity,  322. 

Law  of  Population,  Tendency  of,  249. 

Laws  and  Constitution  of  Light,  8,  9. 

Laws  and  Forces  of  Chemical  Affinity,  34. 

Laws  of  Chemical  Affinity,  150. 

Laws  of  Growth,  Correlation  of,  with 
Utility,  168. 

Laws  of  Thought  Laws  of  Nature,  89,  90. 

"  Lectures,"  Sir  W.  Hamilton's,  90,  91. 

Lesson  of  the  Gall-fly's  nest,  the,  43. 

Lewes,  Mr.  G.  H.,  on  Life,  22. 

Life,  not  mere  Protoplasm,  20,  21 ;  the 
Phenomena  of,  2^  •  the  Ultimate  Nature 
of,  29,  32,  33  ;  Spencer's  Definition  of, 
174,  175 ;  the  Antecedent  of  Organism, 
182. 

Life  in  the  Ocean,  Fulness  of,  137,  138. 

Light  and  Heat,  Distinction  between,  15  ; 
Definition  of,  15, 16 ;  Relations  between, 
16-18  ;  Chemical  Effects  of,  19. 

Light  and  Sound,  Progressive  Knowl- 
edge of,  94,  95,96. 

Light,  its  Measure  and  Operation,  6  ;  Ve- 
locity of,  7,  8,  9 ;  its  Nature,  8,  9, 14 ;  its 
Connection  with  Heat,  with  Galvanism 
and  Electricity,  9 ;  Composition  of  Solar, 
13  ;  separable  from  Heat,  20 ;  the  Cause 
of  Heat,  83  ;  Reflex  Action  in,  178. 

Lime  or  Calcium  in  bone,  20. 

Limitation  of  the  word  Nature,  a,  163. 

Limitations  affecting  our  Knowledge,  92. 

Limitations  of  Mind  and  Spirit,  76-78. 

Limitations  of  our  Faculties,  the,  72. 

Limits  of  Human  Knowledge,  the,  75. 

Lines  of  variation  pre-determined,  158. 

Living  Agencies  in  Nature,  278-281. 

Living  and  Non-living,  Gulf  between 
the,  33. 

Living  Bodies,  Unity  of  Mechanism  of, 
35- 


Living  Creatures,  Personality  among,  m, 

"3- 

Living  Machines,  Animals  as,  58. 
Living  Organism,  Difference  in,  151. 
"Living"  Protoplasm,  21. 
Localization  of  Sensation,  11. 
Local  truth,  a,  115. 
Locke,  and  the  word  u  Idea,"  36. 
Logical  Faculty,  operations  of  the,  101. 
Lowest  Races,  Weakness  of  the,  253-254. 
Lubbock,  Sir  T.,  on  Insect  Development, 

157  ;  his  "  Prehistoric  Times,"  253,  254. 
Lucretian  Philosophy,  Crudity  of,  125. 
Lucretius,  Hatred  of  Religion  by,  310,  311. 
Luminiferous  Ether,  Ubiquity  of,  18. 

MACHINES,  Animals  as,  57-59  ;  the  term 
applied  to  Man,  67-69. 

Magnetism,  n,  12. 

Mohammedanism,  the  Declension  of,  295, 
296. 

Malebranche  on  the  Emotions  of  Animals, 
64,  65. 

Malthus  on  Population,  217,  218. 

Mammalia,  Australian,  244,  245. 

Man  and  Animals,  Physical  Correspond- 
ence of,  67. 

Man  and  Nature,  Distinction  between, 
102-105. 

Man,  Derivation  of  First  Beliefs  of,  2  ; 
his  Place  in  Unity  of  Nature,  28,  69  ;  a 
Reasoning  and  Self-conscious  Machine, 
68,  69  ;  cognizant  of  Instinct,  70,  71  ;  an 
Embodiment  and  Representation  of  the 
Supernatural,  164 ;  a  Product  of  Evo- 
lution, 166 ;  the  Type  and  Image  of  the 
Supernatural,  183  ;  his  Relations  to  the 
Deity,  184-186  ;  his  Sense  of  Ignorance, 
188-190  ;  Moral  Sense  of,  190-203  ;  Spir- 
itual Faculties  of,  195  ;  Social  Instincts 
of,  201,  202  ;  Aim  of  Life  in,  205  ;  First 
Duty  of,  205  ;  Duty  to  Authority,  210- 
213;  Helplessness  of,  210,  212;  Appetite 
in,  213;  Reason  in,  214;  Exceptional 
Tendency  of  Development  in,  215, 
216 ;  Moral  Perversities  in,  219  ;  Deg- 
radation of  Character  and  Condition 
of,  221-223  ;  Primeval  Condition  of, 232, 
234  ;  Origin  and  Distribution  of,  234- 
251  ;  Free-Will  in,  263  ;  Self-conscious- 
ness in,  278  ;  First  Inventions  of,  306  ; 
Conceptions  regarding  the  First,  307- 
309;  his  First  Consciousness  oi  God, 
316  ;  Theories  regarding  Origin  of,  316- 

318. 

Man-Formism,  or  Anthropomorphism,  99. 
Man-Soulism,  or  Anthropopsychism,  xoo. 
Marble  Gall,  the,  42-44. 


INDEX. 


335 


Marine  Life,  136,  137. 

"  Marriage  by  Capture,"  229. 

Material  Force,  the  Movements  of,  116. 

Materialism,  Crude  Conceptions  of  old, 
125. 

Matter  and  Force  Cognizable  as  Infinite, 
79,  80. 

Matter  and  Mind,  the  Relations  of,  75. 

Matter,  Primordial  Combination  of,  28  ; 
the  Indestructibility  of,  80,  81,  84,  85  ; 
SirW.  Hamilton  on,  91,92  ;  Conceptions 
regarding  Constitution  of,  123,  124  ;  the 
u  Impenetrability  "  of,  150. 

Meaning  of  "  Barbarian  "  and  "  Savage," 
227. 

Measure  and  Operation  of  Light,  6. 

Mechanical  Adjustment  a  ground  of 
Faith,  72. 

Mechanical  Adjustments  of  Organs  of 
Sense,  37,  38  ;  of  Bodily  Organs  and  In- 
stincts, 46,  47. 

Mechanical  Force,  Combinations  of,  57, 
58. 

Mechanical  Motion  a  Common  Antece- 
dent of  Physical  Forces,  10. 

Mechanism  of  Living  Bodies,  Unity  of 
the,  10. 

Mechanism,  Principle  of  Human,  313-314. 

Mechanism  of  the  Heavens,  Unity  in  the, 
6. 

Memory,  the  Faculty  of,  194-196. 

Mental  Affection,  Sensation  a,  37. 

Mental  Intuition  preceding  Inquiry,  5. 

Mental  Laws  in  Unity  of  Nature,  89. 

Mental  Operations,  Duality  of,  70,  71. 

Mental  Phenomena  not  Limited  to  Man, 
103. 

Mental  Relations,  Outwardness  of,  115, 

121. 

Merganser,  the  Red -breasted ,  50,  59,  60. 
Mergus  Serrator^  the,  50. 
Metals,  Chemistry  of  the,  139-142. 
Metamorphoses  of  Insects,  the,  157,,  161. 
Metaphor,  the  Elements  of,  47. 
Metaphors,  the  Use  of,  173,  174. 
Metaphysical  Concept  of  Causation,  82, 84. 
Methods  of  Man  and  Nature,  114. 
Migrations,  Human,  237. 
Microscopic  Organism,  a,  154. 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  on  "  Utilitarianism," 

203  ;  on  Comte's  belief,  291,  292. 
Mimicry  in  a  Moth,  instance  of,  52,  53. 
Mind  and   Matter,  the  Relations  of,  75  ; 

Dividing-line  of,  104 ;   Connection  of, 

182  ;  the  Analysis  of,  194. 
Mind  and  Spirit,  Limitations  of,  76-78. 
Mind  in  Man  and  Nature,  183. 
Mind,  Operations  of  the,  68-73. 


Mind  presupposed  in  Brain-structure,  120; 

121. 

Mind,  the  Supreme  Faculties  of,  97,  98. 

Mivart's  "  Genesis  of  Species,"  173. 

Modern  and  Ancient  Atomism,  123,  124. 

Modern  Ideas  of  God,  301,  302. 

Modern  Science,  the  Atom  of,  127,  128. 

Mohawks  and  Iroquois,  the,  255,  256. 

"Molecular  Arrangement,"  not  self-de- 
termined, 23  ;  relative  to  Materialism, 
149- 

"  Molecular  Conditions,"  Progress  of, 
24,  25. 

Molecular  Constitution  Hypothesis,  the, 
126,  127. 

Molecular  Forces,  Power  of,  81. 

Monier  Williams  on  "  Hinduis^n,"  304- 
306. 

Monogamy  and  Polygamy,  229,  230. 

Monotheistic  Doctrine,  Age  of  the,  i,  2. 

Moral  Anomalies,  Explanation  of ,  205. 

Moral  Character  of  Man,  the,  187. 

Moral  Corruption  by  Law  of  Heredity, 
322. 

Moral  Judgment,  the  Standard  of,  203. 

Moral  Obligation,  the  Sense  of,  190, 203, 

210,  212,  315. 

Moral  Perversities  in  Man,  219,  220,  222. 
Morahty,  Definitions  of,  267,  271. 
Moth,  Instinct  displayed  by  a,  52,  62,  63. 
Motion  the  Cause  of  Heat,  83. 
Motive  and  Resulting  Action,  198-200. 
Movements  of  Material  Force,  116. 
•'  Movements  of  Plants,"  Mr.  Darwin't 

Study  of  the,  168-170. 
Muller's  u  Hibbert  Lectures,"  269,  273 

284.  285,  299,  306,  •*>8. 
Mysterious  Connection  of  Consciousnes* 

and  Reason  with  Physical  Apparatus, 

67,  68. 

Mystery  of  Gravitation,  the,  124,  125. 
Myth,  a  Red  Indian,  255. 

NAPOLEON  BUONAPARTE,  character  of ,  293. 

Narrow  Sphere  of  Animal  Perception,  39. 

Native  Purity  of  Gold,  140. 

Natives  of  Tierradel  Fuego,  the,  239-241, 
248. 

"  Naturalist  on  the  Amazon,"  Bates',  252. 

Natural  Powers,  Delegation  of,  m,  112. 

Natural  Rejection,  correlative  to  Nat- 
ural Selection,  231,  239* 

Natural  Selection,  Meaning  of  the  Phrase, 
276. 

Nature  and  Man,  Distinction  between, 
102-104. 

"  Nature  abhors  a  vacuum,"  the  old 
phrase  of,  167,  171. 


336 


INDEX. 


Nature,  "  Innate  Ideas  "  in,  50  ;  the  Sum 
of  Intelligible  Things,  74  ;  Previsions 
in,  156  ;  a  Limitation  of  the  Word,  163  ; 
not  a  System  guided  by  Mechanical 
Necessity,  163;  Instinct  with  Author 
ity,  212. 

Nature  of  the  Gall-fly's  Instinct,  46. 

Nature  of  the  Universal  Ether,  8,  9. 

Nature-Worship,  183. 

Necessary  Antecedence,  82. 

Necessity  of  a  Clear  Definition  of  Relig- 
ion, 273,274. 

Nescience,  the  Philosophy  of,  76. 

Nerve-tissues,  Reflex  Action  of  living,  65, 
66. 

Nervous  Action,  178,  179. 

Nest  of  the  Gall-fly,  42  ;  of  the  Dormouse, 

43- 

Newman,  J.  H.,  on  the  Godhead,  301. 
"  New  World,"  Configuration  of  the,  238, 

239- 
Non-living  and  Living,  Gulf  between  the, 

33- 

No  Race  without  Religion,  281,  282. 
North  American  Indians,  253-256. 
"  Nucleated  Cell,"  the  Living,  25. 

OBEDIENCE  Man's  First  Duty,  210. 
Objects   and    Senses,    Adjustments    be- 
tween, 37,  38. 
Obligation,  the  Sense  of  Moral,  196-203, 

209,  210,  212,  221,  315. 

Ocean,  the,  and  Origin  of  Life,  137. 
Odjis  or  Cohantis,  Belief  of  the,  285. 
"  Omne  vivum  ab  ovo,"  160. 
One-ness,  the,  of  the  System  of  Nature,i. 
14  On  the  Ignorance  of  Man,"  Bishop  But- 
ler, 98. 

Operation  of  Light,  6 ;  Velocity  of,  7, 8. 
Operations  not  after  Ordinary  Laws,  41. 
Operations  of  the  Logical  Faculty,  101. 
Operations  of  the  Mind,  the,  68,  70,  73. 
Order  of  Nature  Dependent  on  Force,  81. 
Organic  Chemistry,  meaning  of,  144-146 ; 

in  the  Laboratory,  147  ;  Segregation  in, 

151. 

Organic  Compounds  "  built  up,"  147, 148. 
Organic  Life,  Fundamental  Facts  of,  29, 

30 ;  Adjustments  connected  with,  33,  34  ; 

Innate  and  Instinctive  Powers  in,  55. 
Organic    Structure,   Theories  regarding 

Relationship  by,  31,  32 ;  the  Unit  of, 

152.  ^ 

Organization  and  Crystallization,  155. 
Organism,  Life  the  Antecedent  of,  182. 
Organs  of  Sense,  Adjustments  of  the,  37. 
Origin  and  Distribution  of  Man,  234-251  ; 

Theories  regarding,  317,  318,  319. 


Origin  of  Animal  Worship,  287-391. 

Origin  of  Buddhism  and  Brahmmism, 
297-299. 

Origin  of  Evil,  the,  320,  321. 

Origin  of  Idea  of  Unity  of  Nature,  i,  2. 

Origin  of  Instinct,  the,  70. 

Origin  of  Religion,  Inquiry  into,  265-305  ; 
Assumptions  and  Speculations  regard- 
ing, 309-312. 

Origin  of  Whales,  Professor  Flower  on 
the,  156. 

u  Orthodox  Cartesians,"  the  View  of,  64. 

Ossification,  F.  A.  Dixey  on,  25. 

"Outlines  of  the  History  of  Ancient  Re- 
ligions," Tiele's,  268,  281. 

Outsidedness  and  Insidedness,  114. 

Outwardness  of  Mental  Relations,  115, 121. 

Oxygenation  of  the  Blood,  Chemical 
Process  of,  31. 

Oxygen,  the  Atom  of,  129  ;  Combinations 
of,  i33,  i34,  136. 

PALEONTOLOGY  in  reference  to  Evolution, 

253- 

Patriotism  and  Courage,  226. 

Pentarchy,  the  Great,  of  Physical  Forces, 
9,  io. 

Perception,  an  Accompaniment  and  Re- 
sult of  Life,  34 ;  Narrow  Sphere  of  An- 
imal, 39. 

Perception  of  Relations,  Knowledge  a, 
3,4,91. 

Perception,  Range  of  Intelligent,  35. 

Perceptions,  Instinctive  or  Intuitional, 
87. 

Perceptions  of  Purpose,  the,  118-120. 

Personal  Deity,  Belief  in  a,  268,  269,  310- 
3"- 

Personality  among  Living  Creatures,  in. 
113  ;  in  Energies  of  Nature,  276. 

Peru,  the  Indians  of,  252. 

Perversions,  Human,  216-220. 

Phenomena  of  Disease,  the,  30. 

Phenomena  of  Instinct,  the,  48. 

Phenomena  of  Life,  the,  22. 

Phenomena  of  Mind,  the,  68-70;  not  Lim. 
ited  to  Man,  104. 

Phenomena  of  Sensation,  the,  37. 

Phenomena  of  Weight,  the,  124,  125. 

Philosophy  of  Nescience,  the,  76. 

Philosophy,  Inconsistency  of  Agnostic, 
166. 

Phrase,  an  old,  of  Aristotelian  Physics, 
167,  171. 

Phraseology,  Scientific,  180,  181. 

Physical  Basis  of  Life,  the,  21. 

Physical  Causation,  the  Chains  of,  117, 


INDEX. 


337 


Physical  Constitution  of  the  Sun,  183. 

Physical  Construction,  Principles  of,  29. 

Physical  Correspondence  of  Man  and  An- 
imals, 67. 

Physical  Forces,  the  Great  Pentarchy  of, 
10  ,  Transmutation  of,  10  ;  Uniformity 
of,  105. 

Physical  Homologies  between  Man  and 
Animals,  166, 

Physical  Machinery,  a  Complex,  154. 

Physical  Pain  and  Pleasure,  213. 

Physical  Structure  and  Freedom  of  the 
Will,  73- 

Physical  Truth,  Forcible  Expression  of  a, 
167 ;  Tyndall's  Test  of,  176. 

"  Physiological    Chemistry,"    Gamgee's, 

153- 

Physiologist,  the  Work  of  the,  4, 

Physiology,  the  Great  Principle  of,  154. 

Plant-growth,  Spiral  or  Screwing,  168- 
170. 

Pleasure  and  Pain,  the  Range  of,  39. 

Polygamy  and  Monogamy,  229,  230. 

Polytheism  of  Egypt,  the,  2. 

Population,  Malthus  on,  217,  218,  tend- 
ency of  Law  of,  249. 

Portuguese  Sailors,  Superstitions  of  284. 

Possible  Connection  among  the  Forces,  12. 

Potassium,  140 ;  Affinity  of,  for  Oxygen, 
142. 

"  Potential  Existence,"  180. 

Potentiality  in  Germs,  156. 

Power  and  Impulse,  188. 

Power  of  Molecular  Forces,  80,  81, 

Power,  Reserve  of,  78-90. 

Powers  and  Functions  of  Atoms,  128, 129. 

Powers  of  Thought  and  Contrivance,  in, 

112. 

Practical  Uselessness  of   Utilitarianism, 

207. 

Practice  of  Worship,  the,  268. 
Pre-established  Harmonies  in  Nature,  54, 

56. 

"  Prehistoric  Man,"  Wilson's,  255,  256. 
"  Prehistoric  Times,."  Lubbock's,  253,  254. 
Prevision  in  Animals,  188. 
Previsions  of  Nature,  156. 
Primary  Physical  Agent  in  the  House  of 

Life,  30. 

Primeral  Condition  of  Man,  232,  233. 
Primeval,  Limited  Signification  of,  227, 

228. 
Primordial  Combination  of  Matter,  the, 

28-30. 

Primordial  Savagery,  Theory  of,  223,  224. 
Principle  of  Development,  157. 
Principle  of  Explosive  Forces,  the,  81. 
Principle  of  Human  Mechanism,  313,  314. 


Principle  of  Physiology,  the  Great,  154. 

Principles  of  Physical  Construction,  29. 

Processes  of  Creation,  the,  160-162. 

Processes  of  Crystallization,  the,  24. 

Processes  of  Organization  and  Crystal- 
lization, 155. 

Process  of  Development  in  Insects,  157. 

Progressive  advances  of  Reason,  258-260. 

Progressive  Knowledge  of  Light  and 
Sound,  94-96 

Progress  of  "  Molecular  Conditions,"  25. 

Properties  and  Composition  of  Water, 
i37.  *38 

Propositions  involved  in  Denial  of  An- 
thropopsychism,  164,  165  ;  Refutation  of 
165,  166. 

"  Proteids,"  Chemistry  of  the,  146. 

Protoplasmic  Blood-corpuscles,  30. 

Protoplasm,  Prevalence  of,  18 ;  Connec- 
tion between  Life  and,  21 ,  the  Mole- 
cules of,  25. 

Psychology,  the  Element  of,  68. 

Purpose  and  Will,  in  Lower  Animals, 
113- 

Purpose  in  Reflex  Action,  180. 

Purpose  of  Man's  Life,  the,  205. 

Purpose  the  Better  Half  of  Adaptation, 
119,  120 

Punishment,  the  Fear  of,  211,  212. 

RADIANT  Heat,  Ether  the  Medium  of,  9 ; 
Definition  of,  17,  in  Caloric  ,18;  Reflex 
Action  in,  178. 

Reasonableness  of  Nature,  the,  120. 

Reason,  and  Self-consciousness  in  Man, 
67  ;  Physical  Foundations  of,  73 ;  and 
Knowledge,  100, 101 ,  in  Relation  to  the 
governing  Intelligence,  214,  215 ;  Pro- 
gressive Advances  of,  257-260 ;  Retro- 
grade Developments  of,  260-262 ;  the 
Origin  of,  277 ;  Reasoning  implicit  in 
Instinct,  63  ;  Reasoning,  the  Basis  of,  71. 

Recognitions  of  General  Truths,  the.  86. 

Red-breasted  Merganser,  the,  50,  59,  60. 

Red  Indian  Myth,  a,  255. 

Reflection,  the  Faculty  of,  194-196. 

Reflex  Action,  in  Living  Nerve-tissues, 
65,  66  ;  Misuse  of  the  Phrase  in  Physi- 
ology, 177-180. 

Reformers  of  the  English  Church,  the, 
301. 

"  Reign  of  Law,"  the,  85,  135,  168,  173 

Rejection  and  Selection,  Natural,  231,  250. 

Rejection  of  Creative  Power  after  Human 
Fashion,  Mr.  Darwin's,  165. 

Related  and  the  Real,  the,  98. 

Relation  of  Animal  Instincts  and  Laws 
of  Nature,  40. 


INDEX. 


Relation  of  Sexes  in  Primeval  Man,  328, 

229. 

Relationship  between  Light  and  Heat, 
17;  of  Man  with  World  around,  29; 
by  Organic  Life,  29  ;  by  Organic  Func- 
tions, 31 ;  with  Vertebrate  Animals,  32  ; 
an  Inscrutable  Secret,  32  ;  with  Forces 
of  Nature,  33 ;  by  Powers  of  Adjust- 
ment, 34  ;  by  Power  of  Sensation,  36 ; 
of  Matter  and  Mind,  75  ;  of  Knowledge 
with  Nature,  90 ;  of  Light  and  Sound 
with  Sense  and  Knowledge,  96  ;  of  Ex- 
ternal Facts  with  Perception  and 
Thought,  1765  of  Physical  Power  and 
Ability,  187. 

Relations  of  the  Organic  and  Inorganic 
in  Marine  Life,  139. 

Relations,  the  Perception  of,  2. 

Relative  Knowledge,  90. 

Religion,  the  Origin  of,  265 ;  Schleier- 
macher's  Definition  of,  267  ;  Tiele's  Def- 
inition of,  267 ;  a  Belief  in  a  Personal 
Deity,  268-273 ;  Necessity  for  a  Clear 
Definition  of,  274 ;  the  Belief  Funda- 
mental to,  275-280 ;  the  Universality  of, 
281,  282;  Difference  between  Popular 
Superstitions  and,  283;  Comte's  Four 
Stages  of,  284  ;  among  African  Negroes, 
285-287 ;  of  Egypt,  287,  289,  305  ;  Tend- 
ency to  Decline  of,  294-299 ;  of  Aryans, 
303-305 ;  Assumptions  regarding  Or- 
igin of,  309-312  ;  Early  Conceptions  of, 
318. 

Renouf's  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  2,  305. 

"  Representability "  of  Physical  Truth, 
176. 

Resemblance  of  a  Work  of  Nature  and 
of  Art,  io£,  108. 

Reserve  of  Power,  78,  90,- 189. 

Resources  of  Chemical  Force,  131-133. 

Restigouche,  the,  108. 

Restraint  or  Incapacity,  78. 

Retina  of  the  Eye,  the,  37. 

Retrograde  Developments  of  Reason,  260. 

Riviera,  Insect  Life  in  the,  52. 

Roman  Idea  of  Civilization,  225. 

Rudimentary  Organs  in  Whales,  158, 

Rudimentary  View  of  Relation  between 
Man  and  the  World  around,  28. 

SAKYA  MUNI  (Buddha),  297. 
Savage  Customs,  286. 
Savage,  Instinct  of  the,  87. 
Savage,  Meaning  of  the  Term,  227» 
Savagery,  Primordial,  223,  224,  232. 
Scarabeus  Beetle,  the,  289. 
Sjchleiermacher's  Definition  of  Religion, 
967. 


Schools  of  Ethical  Philosophy,  the  two, 

203. 
Science,  Errors  in  Generalizations  of,  4, 

5- 
u  Science  Primers,"   Professor  Huxley's 

I55- 

Scientific  Etymology,  Theories  of,  307. 

Scientific  Phraseology,  180,  181. 

Sea,  Variety  and  Fulness  of  Life  in  the, 
i37,  138. 

Secrecy  of  Relationship  between  the 
Physical  Forces  and  Life,  32. 

Secret  Agencies  of  Nature,  the,  23. 

Seeds  and  Eggs,  Development  of,  25. 

Seeming  Accidental  Action  of  Physical 
Forces,  105,  106. 

Segregation  in  Organic  Chemistry,  151. 

Selection  and  Rejection  in  Nature,  231, 
256. 

Selection,  Darwin's  Theory  of,  159. 

Selection,  the  Principles  of,  4. 

Self-consciousness  in  Man,  278. 

Self-consciousness  related  to  Structure, 
68. 

Self-rectifying  Power  of  Reason  in 
Science,  261. 

Sensation,  Localization  and  Adaptation 
of,  31 ;  an  Accompaniment  and  Result 
of  Life,  34  ;  Basis  of  Mental  Faculties, 
35 ;  Machinery  of,  35  ;  Unity  of,  in  An- 
imal Kingdom,  36;  a  Characteristic 
Property  of  Life,  36  ;  a  Mental  Affection 
36 ;  in  Animals,  64 ;  Dependent  on 
Structure,  66  ;  connected  with  Organic 
Apparatus,  67 ;  Knowledge  acquired 
by,  93  ;  Light  and  Sound  as,  94,  95. 

Sense,  Adjustment  of  Organs  of,  37,  38. 

Sense-impressions,  Affinities  of,  38,  39. 

Sense  of  Ignorance  in  Man,  188-190. 

Sense  of  Moral  Obligation,  190-203,  209, 

212,  221,  315,  3l6. 

Sentient  Actions  of  Lower  Animals,  40, 

41. 

Separable  Relations  of  Light  and  Heat,  20. 
Separate  Individuality,  34. 
Serpent-worship,  290,  291. 
Service  of  Life,  the,  35. 
Sexes,  the,  in  Primeval  Times,  222,  230. 
Sharks,  Fossil  Teeth  of,  107. 
Shaw,  Alex.,  "On  the  Nervous  System," 

29. 

"  ShorterCatechism,"  the,  205. 
Sight   and  Hearing,   the    Language   of 

Sensation,  31. 

Singular  in  Man,  the,  215-217. 
Significant  Doubt,  a,  m. 
Signification  of  "  Primeval,"  228. 
So-called  Transmutation  of  Forces,  10, 


INDEX. 


339 


Social  Instincts  of  Man,  201-203. 

Sodium,  140. 

Solar  Light,  the  Composition  of,  13. 

Solar  System,  Forces  Governing  the,  6. 

Solitariness  of  Man's  Position  in  Nature, 
Illogical  Assertion  of,  165,  166. 

Sound  and  Light,  Progressive  Knowledge 
of,  94,  95,  96- 

Sound  sutmct  to  same  Laws  as  Light,  12,, 
14. 

Source  of  Declension  of  Mohammedan- 
ism, 295,  296. 

Source  of  Error  in  Idealistic  Philosophy, 
89. 

Source  of  Delusion  in  regard  to  inward- 
ness, 115,  116. 

Space  and  Time,  the  Conceptions  of,  79, 
80,  82,  84. 

Special  Development  of  Insect  Life,  45. 

Special  Functions  of  Animal  and  Vege- 
table Life,  25,  26. 

Specialists,  the  Researches  of,  4. 

Species,  Variations  in,  158,  159. 

Spectrum,  Colors  of  the  Solar,  13. 

Speech,  Functions  of,  307. 

Spencer's  Definition  of  Life,  175 ;  his 
kl  Data  of  Ethics,"  205,  207. 

Sphere  of  Animal  Perception,  39,  40. 

Sphere  of  the  Inorganic,  149. 

Spider,  Instinct  of  the,  40. 

Spiral  or  Screwing  Growth  of  Plants,  168- 
170. 

Spirit  and  Mind,  Limitations  of,  76-78. 

Spiritual  Faculties  of  Man,  195. 

Spontaneous  Turgescence  in  Plants,  169. 

Standard  of  Moral  Judgment,  the,  202, 
203. 

Starting-point  of  Mental  Perceptions,  201. 

Statical  Equilibrium,  80. 

Steam-engine,  the  "Governor"  of  the, 
116. 

St.  Lawrence,  Tribes  of  the,  255-257. 

Strauss  on  the  Denial  of  a  Personal  God, 
270. 

Structural  Adjustment,  Authority  of,  313- 
3*5- 

Structural  Development,  155,  156. 

Structure  and  Function,  Unity  of,  113. 

Structure  of  Man  and  Animals,  Com- 
munity of,  32. 

Structure  of  the  Mother  Gall-fly,  44,  45. 

Structure,  Organic,  148,  149,  150-153. 

Structure,  Sensation  Dependent  on,  66. 

Subjects  of  Human  Inquiry,  the,  96. 

Subordination  of  Physical  Causation,  143. 

Substances,  Elementary,  134-136,  140. 

Substitution  in  Operations  on  Metals,  142. 

Sum  and  System  of  Intelligible  Things,  74. 


Sun,  Physical  Constitution  of  the,  183. 

Supernatural,  Exclusion  of  the,  in  Na 
ture,  163  ;  Different  Meanings  attached 
to  the  Term,  163  ;  Man  the  Embodi- 
ment and  Representation  of  the,  164 ; 
Professor  Tyndall  on,  164,  165  ;  Man  the 
Type  and  Image  of  the,  183 ;  Ambig- 
uity of  the  Term,  271,  272. 

Superstition  and  Religion,  Difference  be- 
tween, 283. 

Supreme  Authority,  the,  208-213. 

Supreme  Faculties  of  Mind,  the,  97,  98. 

Synthesis  of  Intuition,  Experience  a,  89. 

System  and  Government  of  the  Universe, 
184. 

System  of  Adjustment,  the,  14,  15. 

System  of  Nature,  One-ness  of  the,  i ; 
Pervading  Principle  of  the,  117. 

Systems  of  Belief,  267,  275. 

TASMANIA,  the  Natives  of  244. 

Teaching  of  Geology,  the,  238. 

Teeth  and  Arrowheads,  Difference  be- 
tween, 107,  108. 

Teleological  Tendency  of  Mr.  Darwin's 
Language,  168. 

Teleology,  Development  Theory  founded 
on,  171. 

Tendency  of  Religions  to  Decline,  294- 
299. 

Tendency  to  Deify  Material  Objects,  282. 

Tennyson's  "Two  Voices,"  70. 

Test  of  Fitness,  Utility  a,  206. 

Test  of  Physical  Truth,  Tyndall's,  176. 

"  Text-book  of  Physiology,"  Foster's,  66, 
153,  179,  180. 

Theism,  Origin  of,  2. 

Theories  of  Scientific  Etymology,  307. 

Theories  regarding  Origin  of  Man,  316- 
318. 

Theory  of  Development,  the,  168. 

Theory  of  Organized  Experience,  the, 
56. 

Theory  of  Primordial  Savagery,  223,  224. 

Theory  of  Utilitarianism,  203,  204. 

"  Things  in  Themselves,"  90,  91. 

Thirst  and  Hunger,  the  Origin  of,  264. 

Thomson,  Sir  W.,  on  Heat,  17  ;  on  Grav- 
itation, 125. 

Thought  an  Accompaniment  and  Result 
of  Life,  34. 

Thought  and  Language,  64. 

Tiele's  Definition  of  Religion,  268. 

Tierra  del  Fuego,  the  Natives  of,  239, 241, 
248. 

Time  and  Space,  the  Conceptions  of,  79, 
80,  82,  84. 

Time  an  Element  in  Development,  231, 


340 


INDEX. 


Tissues  in  Vegetable  and  Animal  Organ- 
isms, 151. 

Tradition  of  God,  an  Universal,  319. 

Transmigration  of  Souls,  Doctrine  of,  297, 
298. 

Transmutation  of  Physical  Forces,  10. 

Triumphs  of  the  Laboratory,  147,  148. 

Tropical  America,  Man  in,  252. 

True  Explanation  of  Appetite,  the,  264. 

True  Idea  of  the  Godhead,  300,  301. 

Truthfulness  of  Human  Knowledge,  the, 

99- 

Turgescence  of  Plant-cells,  169. 

Twisting  Movements  of  Plants,  169,  170. 

"  Two  Voices,"  the,  of  Tennyson,  70. 

Tyndall,  Professor,  on  the  "  Identity  of 
Light  and  Heat,"  15 ;  on  the  Supernat- 
ural in  Man,  164,  165  ;  on  Development, 
171,  172  ;  his  Test  of  Physical  Truth, 
176 ;  on  the  Connection  of  Mind,  and 
Organism,  182. 

UBIQUITY  of  Luminiferous  Ether,  18. 

Ultimate  Connection  among  the  Forces, 
Possible,  ii. 

Ultimate  Nature  of  Life,  the,  29,  32,  33. 

"  Unconditioned,"  the,  91. 

Undulatory  Vibrations  in  Ether,  17,  18. 

Uniform  Antecedence,  82. 

Uniformity  of  Atoms,  127,  128. 

Uniformity  of  Physical  Forces,  105. 

Unity,  Infinite,  of  Adjustment,  14 ;  of 
Light  and  Heat,  17  ;  of  Chemical  Con- 
stitution of  Man  and  Animals,  28-31 ;  of 
Animal  Functions,  31 ;  between  Sense- 
impressions  and  External  Realities,  37- 
38  ;  of  Instinct  with  Nature,  40  ;  of  Uni- 
versal Adjustment,  47  ;  between  Struct- 
ure and  Freedom,  113 ;  of  Physical 
Powers,  Dispositions,  and  Conditions, 
188-189  j  °f  Origin  and  Distribution  of 
Man,  233-235. 

Unity  of  God,  the  i,  2. 

Unity  of  Nature,  the,  Origin  of  Idea  of, 
i,  2 ;  What  is  Meant  by,  2,  3 ;  Higher 
Aspects  of,  4,  Danger  of  Inadequate 
Conception9of,4, 5  ;  Man's  Innate  Sense 
of,  5 ;  Physical  Signs  of  the,  5-12  ;  a 
Higher  Kind  than  Physical  required, 
13  Cycle  of  Operations  in,  26  ;  in  what 
it  Consists,  26 ;  Man's  Place  in,  28,  39, 
69  ;  in  Man  and  Animals,  28-31  ;  on  Ex- 
ceptional Instance  of  the,  43-45  ;  Lim- 
its of  Human  Knowledge  in  Reference 
to,  75  ;  Mental  Laws  in,  90  ;  Universality 
of  Material  Relationship  in,  93,  94;  in 
Relation  to  Organic  and  Inorganic 
Chemistry,  144,  145  ;  Use  of  Metaphors 


in  describing,  174  ;  Moral  Character  in 
the  Light  of  the,  187  ;  the  Rule  of  Obe- 
dience consistent  with,  209;  Place  of 
Appetite  in,  213  ;  Habits  and  Practices 
exceptional  to  the,  222  ;  Religion  in  the 
Light  of  the,  264-305  ;  Relation  between 
Religious  Conceptions  and  Human  Life 
in  Light  of  the,  311,  312  ;  Tendencies 
and  Propensities  exceptional  to,  322 ; 
Conclusions  to  which  it  points,  322-325. 

Universal  Ether,  Fact  of  an,  7 ;  its  Na- 
ture, 8,  9. 

Universality  of  Gravitation,  6. 

Universality  of  Religious  Belief,  281,  282. 

Universe,  System  and  Government  of, 
184. 

Unnatural  Contrasts  in  Humanity,  218, 
219. 

Unreasoning  Instinct,  70. 

Unseen  Factors  in  System  of  Nature,  23, 
24,  25. 

Upwardness  and  Downwardnessin  Space, 
114. 

Urea,  Chemical  Production  of,  147,  148. 

Use  of  Metaphors,  the,  173,  174. 

Utilitarian  Philosophy,  the,  203,  204. 

Utility  and  Fitness,  Governing  Principles 
in  Nature,  167,  168. 

"  Utility,"  Primary  Signification  of,  203, 
204,  208. 

"VALENCY"  of  Atoms,  the,  129. 
Variations  in  Species,  158,  159. 
Varieties  of  Gall-fly  Production,  45,  46. 
Variety  of  Life  in  the  Sea,  137,  138. 
"  Variously  Conditioned  "  Organisms,  22, 

23- 

Vedic  Literature,  the,  300, 302,  304, 306,  307. 

Vegetable  and  Animal  Organisms,  Tis- 
sues of,  151,  152. 

Vegetable  Juices,  Exuding  of,  41. 

Vegetable  Life,  Special  Function  of,  25. 

Velocity  of  Light,  7-9. 

Verifications  of  Science,  the,  95. 

Versatility  of  Powers  in  Plant-life,  170. 

Vertebrate  Animals,  Relationship  of  Man 
with,  31,  32. 

Vibrations  in  Ether,  17,  18. 

Virtue  and  Civilization,  226. 

Vital  Force,  a,  22. 

Vivisection,  the  Phenomena  of,  65,  66. 

Voice  and  Mind,  307. 

Voltaic  Electricity  and   Chemical  Force, 


WALLACE.  MR. ,235,  245. 
Warranty  of  True  Freedom,  a,  74. 
i(  Watch  Force,"  a,  22. 


INDEX. 


341 


ater,  Composition  and   Properties  of, 

136,  137- 

Water-ousel,  or  Dipper,  49,  50,53,  58,  59. 
Waves  of  Sound,  the,  13,  14. 
Weakness  of  Lowest  Races  of  Man,  253. 
Weight,  the  Phenomena  of,  124,  125. 
Westwood's  "  Classification  of  Insects," 

46. 
Whales,  the  Origin  of,  156  ;  Rudimentary 

Organs  in,  158. 

What,  How,  and  Why,  the,  96. 
Wild  Duck,  the  Common,  51,  60. 


Will  and  intelligence.  Definition  of.  112. 

Will,  the  Faculty  of,  195. 

Will,  the  Power  of,  97. 

Wilson's  "  Prehistoric  Man,"  255-257. 

Wonder,  the  Origin  of.  277. 

Work  of  Specialists,  the,  4. 

Works  of  Nature  and  of  Art,  in 

Worship  of  Animals,  287-291. 

Worship,  the  Practice  of,  268 

YOUNG,  DR.  THOMAS,  on  the  Nature  of 
Light,  8. 


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